


Electric Blue

by Sheska



Series: Deep Red/Bright Blue [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Racism, Angst, Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Childhood Trauma, Drugs, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Murder, OCs (for the case and some character development), Past Abuse, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Pacifist Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Pre-Slash, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-06-15 14:57:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 57,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15415494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheska/pseuds/Sheska
Summary: Gavin would be fine. 100% fine. Solve the case and go back to working alone.Only, things were never that simple.-A series of android homicides, a new type of Red Ice and a rise in aggression against androids. What at first looks to be a normal investigation, turns out to be much more sinister. Gavin has a lesson to learn to move forward - or two ... or twenty. But he's not the only one.





	1. Open and Shut

**Author's Note:**

> Sensitive topics ahead in this fic. You've been warned.
> 
> There's not enough Gavin in this fandom, for my taste. And certainly not enough Gavin Redemption Arcs. So here I am!  
> I'll try to post every week or at least every two weeks, but my health is not the best at the moment, so there could be some delays. 
> 
> Sorry for possible mistakes, I am not a native speaker. Do tell me if you spot anything for me to correct. I do have someone to read over the chapters before I post them, but they're not a native speaker either ... ^^''

 

 

Six months. The Android Revolution had been six fucking months ago. To the day, apparently, if the shitload of holographic banners and flags plastered everywhere across the city was anything to go by. He spotted the symbol of the revolutionists a few times, among strings of demands he couldn’t be bothered to read while driving.

 

Gavin sighed, running a hand across his forehead and resisting the urge to rub his irritated eyes. It’d only mess up his contacts. The world was already slightly blurry, the ghostly blue of the holograms just bright enough to be blinding. Gavin could practically taste the migraine coming on. Great. Fucking awesome.

 

He turned a corner, noticing how empty the streets in this neighborhood were after dark. No cars, no pedestrians, not even stationary taxis. Hardly surprising. This area had been a shithole long before the revolution, and after it had somehow transformed into an even dirtier, all around worse version of itself. No wonder drug related crimes were in abundance up here.

 

Flashing lights ahead of him told him he had reached his destination before his shitty GPS could. Gavin pulled his car over to the side, turning his key to shut off the engine. Instead of silence, he was greeted by an annoying, high-pitched hum in his ears. Another sign of a fast approaching migraine. How fucking uplifting.

 

He glanced at this watch as he stepped out of the car, groaning when he noticed the time. 01:35 a.m. He could kiss a good night’s sleep goodbye, that was for certain. Tenth night of probably getting less than four hours of shut eye. In a row. Not counting the ones he’d spent crashing on a couch at the station to avoid the drive home and back. That had to be some kind of record.

 

Gavin shook his head, trying not to think of the siren call of his bed. He had work to do. The better and quicker he did it, the faster he’d be out of here.

 

“Yo, Gavin!” Chris was waving him over, smiling despite the obvious fatigue on his face and a faintly upset look in his eyes.

 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Gavin said, grinning. “You look like shit.”

 

Chris snorted, slapping Gavin’s shoulder. “You’re not exactly a sight for sore eyes either. And just you wait until you see the crime scene.”

 

“That bad, huh?”

 

“Two dead addicts and a dead android. Fucking bloodbath, man.”

 

Gavin scrunched his nose. He could deal with drugs, violence, even gore. Didn’t mean he had to like it. Especially large quantities of blood … And the bright blue of Thirium was nauseating to Gavin.

 

“Sounds inviting,” he said slowly. “Let's hope it's some easy case and they all just killed each other somehow. Open and shut. Best get going, the sooner I’m back out again, the better.”

 

He turned to face the entrance, when a loud voice made him jump.

 

“The fuck are you doing here?”

 

Hank. As if Gavin’s night – or morning rather – hadn’t been shitty enough already.

 

He turned to face the Lieutenant, doing his best to swallow his anger, opting for an ironic smile instead.

  
“I could ask you the same. Shouldn’t you be at a bar or passed out drunk? Or both.”

 

“We were assigned the case because of the involvement and death of an android.”

 

Gavin jumped _again_ , letting out a string of curses. This time because Connor had somehow come up right behind him like a fucking ninja. The plastic asshole even had the audacity to look amused at Gavin’s over the top reaction.

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Don’t just sneak up on me, you prick.”

 

Connor’s expression smoothed over instantly, turning slightly sheepish and throwing Gavin off – right into the uncanny valley. That thing was not human. Why did it have to look so convincing?

 

“Apologies, Detective Reed. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Why did it sound sincere? Fucking advanced programming. And fucking deviancy, making the effect ten times worse.

“I assume you are here because of the suspected relation to drugs, am I correct?”

 

Gavin blinked a few times, he felt strangely disoriented. Probably the migraine about to kick in, he could already feel the dull throbs in his skull. He had to keep himself from wincing. Connor was still looking at him after all. Show no weakness in front of the enemy.

 

Funnily enough, the steady blinking of the android’s LED was almost perfectly in-sync with the jabs of pain Gavin felt. Blue. Dark. Blue. Dark. Blue. Yellow. Huh.

 

“Detective? Are you quite alright?”

 

Gavin snapped back to attention at Connor’s concerned question, realizing only now that he had just spaced out, like the idiot he was.

 

“I’m perfectly fine, asshole. Don’t get on my case,” he replied, voice flat. He didn’t have the energy to put any bite into his insult. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I came here for work, dipshit, not chitchat.”

 

With that, he straightened his shoulders and headed inside the abandoned apartment building to get to the crime scene. He almost wished he hadn’t.

 

The scene looked like something straight out of a cheap horror flick. First thing he saw were curled up bodies close to the wall opposite the entrance door. Two were slumped against each other, halfway between falling down and kneeling upright. He couldn’t make out any features with their backs turned to him. One body lay on the ground, partly hidden by the lifeless forms of the other two. Gavin had a feeling the sight would not be pretty up close.

 

But the smell! It was atrocious. Feces and urine and something vaguely alcoholic, all mixed in with the unmistakable smell of metal.  
No wonder. Insane amounts of blood were pooling on the scratched up and dirty hardwood floor, still wet, but slowly coagulating. The blood looked like a shiny mirror, the red so dark it appeared almost black in the insufficient lighting inside. The surface reflected Gavin’s image as he walked over to the bodies, careful not to step into the puddle.

 

Everything about this crime scene was sickening, unnerving. He crouched down close to the bodies, the smell hitting him even harder now.

 

The first victim he inspected was the android. Female model, lithe build, sprawled out on the floor, facing upwards, arms and legs outstretched. It had been stripped naked, cut and beaten all over, revealing white plastic and destroyed wiring underneath artificial skin. Someone had taken a knife or something to the neck, almost cutting its head off, but not quite succeeding. Gross.

 

Gavin flinched when he saw its eyes staring back at him, unseeing, unblinking. Soulless marbles, like a puppet’s dead gaze, forcing him to look away, anywhere but its face.

 

He focused on its injuries. Thirium coated its lifeless form, bright blue mixing with the red blood on the ground. Not nearly as much as he had expected, which was weird, given the condition the android was in. Something was off about this.

 

No amount of staring revealed to him what it was, though. Maybe he was too tired, or too preoccupied with the battle he fought against his own body, a creeping feeling of nausea adding a new level of suffering to the headache that had taken over by now. Pain was gripping his skull like a vice. He blinked furiously, turning his head to the side as to not be staring at the bright blue and white anymore.

 

Gavin found himself face to face with empty, human eye sockets, a horrifying goo of blood and … something else leaking from the black holes.

 

Instantly, he reeled back, a choked gasp escaping his lips. His stomach twisted at the gruesome sight.

 

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck?!”

 

He almost didn’t want to look at the third body, but he did it anyway. It looked disgustingly similar to the eyeless guy, only with just one eye missing and the rest of the face badly scratched up. The remaining eye was half open, clouding over.  
The sight was unreal. And the fact that leaning against each other had kept both mutilated bodies upright, even in death, was _mildly_ disturbing.

 

“What kind of sick fuck does something like that?” Gavin muttered, directed at nobody in particular.

 

“Those two men seem to have done it to themselves.”

 

Connor must have come up behind Gavin again, as silently as before, only this time Gavin didn’t have it in him to be surprised. He didn’t even look up at the android.

 

“Where's your precious handler, dipshit?"

 

Connor, honest to god, huffed at that. "I am a full fledged Detective as well as a sentient being with rights," it said in a tone so overly polite it basically screamed 'fuck you' back at Gavin. "I don't need a handler and _my partner Hank_ is outside, inspecting the premises outside with Officer Miller."

 

A sore spot, it seemed. Any other time, Gavin would have used this info to rile the android up some more. Right now, all he wanted was to be done and go home. Time to be diplomatic. With a machine. Totally his forte.

 

"Alright, alright. Don't get your panties in a twist, tin can. You said they did it themselves? What makes you so sure of that?”

 

Surprisingly enough, this seemed to placate Connor. As if it’d been invited to do so, it dropped into a crouch next to Gavin, glancing at the Detective. Its LED circled yellow. Processing.

 

For the time being, Gavin let the machine play cop with only a small frown. He just wanted to get out of here, and if Connor was the key to doing that faster, so be it, pride be damned.

 

“From what I can see, it appears to be the most logical option. There are no signs of a struggle on any of the bodies. The scratch marks on the human victims’ faces match with the shape and span of their respective fingers and their hands are coated in blood and tissue.”

 

That sounded convincing. And disturbing. Not that Gavin would admit to either of that.

 

“What would make them do something like that? This is fucked up.”

 

“I suspect involvement of drugs. Something that altered their state of mind could have driven them into a frenzy. There are also empty syringes near the wall and equally empty plastic wrappings all over the room. I’d need to take a sample to confirm. ”

 

Gavin raised an eyebrow. “A sample?”

 

Without warning, Connor reached out to touch one of the human victim’s hands, dragging its fingers through the drying blood before bringing them back to its mouth and …

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, plastic! Did you just fucking _lick_ the evidence?”

 

Gavin was so shocked; he even forgot to be disgusted, simply staring at Connor with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

 

He thought he caught a glimpse of a mischievous smile on the android’s face but the cold, factual tone Connor took convinced him otherwise.

 

“I can check samples in real time. Provided they aren’t contaminated too much. My apologies, Detective. I should have warned you.”

 

Gavin decided to ignore the half-assed apology entirely.

 

“A walking forensics lab, eh? Figures. Casually outperforming human law enforcement,” he spat out, acting angry despite the fact that he wasn’t, not really. “Good thing there aren’t enough of your model out there to replace us all.”

 

So much for being diplomatic, but old habits died hard, he guessed.

 

A flash of red on Connor’s temple drew Gavin’s attention, but it was gone by the time he could study the LED more closely, replaced by the contemplative yellow it had been before.

 

“I merely wish to be of assistance. Do my part in aiding and protecting society.”

 

Huh. Gavin didn’t have anything to say to that.

 

“I was correct, by the way,” Connor added. “On both accounts. The blood on this victim’s hand is his own. This further supports my working theory on how the human victims acquired their injuries antemortem. There are also foreign chemical components in the victim’s blood, and large amounts of that. The sample came back as inconclusive, but the chemical structure I can decipher as of now shows similarities to Red Ice. I could try the other victim as well, just to be sure?”

 

Gavin couldn’t help but groan at that. “Leave that to the forensics team, or at least wait until I leave the room.”

 

He stood up, trying his best to not look shaken up.

 

“There’s more.”

 

He glanced back at Connor, who was looking back and forth between the destroyed android and the dead addicts. Despite his ego shouting down at him for letting the fucking machine take the lead in this investigation, Gavin couldn't help feeling intrigued.

 

"Yeah? What is it?"

 

Again, a flash of red, then yellow again, LED blinking rapidly. Did Connor look ... uncomfortable? Alarmed even?

 

"It's about the Thirium. Or rather, the lack of it," Connor said carefully. "The traces I can see haven't evaporated yet. And though there is Thirium residue around the human victims' mouths, which suggests that they tried drinking it -"

 

"Drinking it?!" Great, now Gavin really felt like puking. "Why would anyone do that?"

 

Connor glared at him, presumably for interrupting. "That I do not know. But _as I was trying to say_ , Detective, it is highly unlikely that the victims drank high quantities of Thirium, as it is mildly toxic and unpleasant to humans. They would have vomited it back soon after consuming it."

 

"Gross."

No, super gross. Gavin wanted to add some kind of insult, preferable against androids, but decided not to. Mostly because the throbbing in his skull was becoming stronger by the minute and arguing with Connor would only prolong the torture that was his job right now.

 

"I am fairly certain that the android victim was already critically low on blood before she died," Connor finished.

 

Gavin nodded.

"Yeah, I noticed. I thought it was weird there's so little blue blood around. That android looks pretty banged up after all ..."

 

He stopped speaking when a thought hit him. It momentarily overshadowed his migraine, clearing his head.

"Hey, dipshit ... You said the android was likely critically low on Thirium, right?"

 

Connor looked up, nodding.

 

"Is it possible that the android was already dead before any of this shit happened?"

 

"There are no traces of evaporated Thirium around. So provided she was dead already, she was likely killed somewhere else and brought here. The question is where, and why."

 

Gavin sighed, rubbing his temples. So much for an open and shut case.

 

 


	2. Take Two

 

 

As Connor’s internal clock struck 3 a.m., he couldn’t help but notice how tired the humans around him looked. He was aware of the amount of overtime they’d had to put into their jobs recently, not in small part due to the change brought on by the Android Revolution.

 

All the more reason for him to do as much as he could to help out in any way possible.

 

At least they were almost done with the building and backyard, having checked every corner on every floor and coming up empty. No witnesses, no traces of blood or Thirium, just evidence of various drugs, some legal, most illegal.

 

A sharp intake of breath caught Connor’s attention. His searching gaze fell on Detective Reed, standing close to a broken window, eyes shut tightly and a hand rubbing the bridge of his nose.

 

He looked disheveled, tired to the point of exhaustion, body language subconsciously defensive.

  
He also seemed … distressed.

 

Connor hesitated for a moment before activating his external diagnostic program, adding his observations since the Detective’s arrival at the crime scene to the analysis.

 

 

**//Scanning ...//**

 

**Elevated blood pressure and heart rate.**

**Tension in the muscles around the neck.**

**Agitated behavior.**

**Obvious signs of pain (flinching, labored breathing, groaning, reoccurring touches to certain areas of the face).**

**Possible vision problems (rapid blinking, squinting, and avoidance of bright light sources).**

 

**Probable cause: Headache.**

**Most common form of headache: tension headache.**

**Also possible: migraine. Comparatively rare. Lines up with displayed light sensitivity and duration of symptoms.**

 

  
“Detective,” Connor said, keeping his voice soft as to not aggravate Detective Reed’s pain.

 

While he didn’t particularly like his coworker, he had no reason to be cruel to him.

 

“You don’t look too well. You should head home; Lieutenant Anderson and I can finish up the crime scene on our own.”

 

Detective Reed didn’t take kindly to the advice, flipping Connor off.

 

“Fuck you, tin can. You have no authority to order me around. Like I’m gonna leave my crime scene to a drunkard and his plastic pet.”

  
  
_Drunkard._

 

Connor felt anger rising in his system, sending electricity down his limbs.

 

A primal urge of wanting to defend Hank, the most important person in his life, took over, making him scowl and clench his fists.

  
He could take the insults against himself without lasting effects on his mood, but any attack against the man who had taken him in when he’d had nowhere to go was personal.

  
Especially after how far they had come with Hank’s drinking problem.

 

  
It took all he had to bite back a sharp comeback, opting for a more levelheaded approach.

 

  
"I would appreciate it if you refrained from insulting Lieutenant Anderson. He is a perfectly capable and respectable member of Detroit’s police force. And he is important to me.”

 

Detective Reed leveled him with a strange look, but to Connor’s utter surprise, he didn’t retort back, simply shrugging silently. Connor took this opportunity to continue.

 

“Moreover, I wasn’t trying to give you any orders. I was merely suggesting for you to leave early out of consideration for your health. You have been displaying signs of being uncomfortable since you have arrived, and it seems to have gotten worse.”

  
  
“Did you scan me or some bullshit?” Reed asked, voice flat. There was only a bit of heat behind his words.

  
  
Be honest or lie?

  
Connor knew how much the Detective hated anything to do with androids, advanced models especially. Then again, his usually antagonistic behavior was very subdued today and he had actually worked well with Connor, taking his observations seriously, even asking for his opinion.

 

Truth it was.

 

“I only used my diagnostic program to confirm my suspicions,” he said carefully. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t need urgent medical attention.”

  
  
The short laugh he got in response was unexpected. Harsh, fake, yet not hostile. Connor didn’t know what to make of it.

  
  
“Shit. I must be really pathetic for a machine to start worrying about me.”

  
  
Before either of them could say anything else, Detective Reed’s phone started buzzing. Not even half a second later, an alert popped up in Connor’s field of vision.

  
  
Another android homicide, only a few blocks away. There were some similarities to this case, it seemed.

  
  
Connor locked eyes with Detective Reed in silence, drawing an exhausted sigh from the man.

  
  
“No point in going home now, right, dipshit?”

  
  
\---

 

The new crime scene was strikingly similar to the first one, yet very much different.

An abandoned building in the same neighborhood, signs of rampant drug abuse, and an android victim, laid out on the floor in the same manner as the first victim – stripped naked, facing upwards with open eyes, arms and legs neatly spread out around the body.

That was where the similarities ended, though. While close in terms of location, this crime scene was not an apartment building, but a run down, two-story house, surrounded by many other such houses.

 

As for the victim ... Other than the first time around, there was barely any damage to this body, a male AC700 model.

Only a few deep cuts along the wrists. There was very little Thirium present, and none had been wiped off, as far as Connor’s scanners could detect. The traces he could detect weren’t fresh either. They had evaporated, becoming invisible to the naked eye.

  
  
“Well, shit”, Hank grumbled next to him, voice raspy from how tired he was. “Look at those wounds. Almost looks like suicide.”

  
  
Connor cocked his head to the side, contemplating. He would not have made the connection.

Android suicides differed drastically from human suicides, and they were decidedly less common, usually tied to extreme situations. He was just about to explain that to Hank, when someone else cut in.

  
  
“I don’t think the android offed itself,” Gavin Reed said, leaning against a wall next to Connor. “No weapon around. Besides, most androids do some overly dramatic shit like smashing their own skulls in, or blowing their brains out. Wait, do androids even have brains?”

  
  
Connor could sense Hank getting ready to hurl insults at Detective Reed for butting in, tension clearly visible in his posture and micro-expressions. He didn’t let him, quickly answering before Hank could say anything.

  
“You are correct, Detective. Very observant. And while androids don’t have organic brains, they do have a main computing unit located in their skull, as well as the most important data port at the back of their neck.”

  
  
Despite his database suggesting that such a thing was actually impossible, Connor was quite sure he could feel Hank’s stare burning into him right now, silently asking him why he was bothering to be civil with Reed. He ignored it in favor of furthering the investigation.

 

“There is very little Thirium detectable, so I would propose the theory that this victim was drained of it and brought here after he died. Much like the victim from before. The cuts were administered postmortem with a sharp object, most likely a knife. There

are no signs of self-repair on the artificial skin or the damaged wiring.”

  
  
“Anything else?” Hank grumbled, his investigative instincts winning out against his dislike for Detective Reed.

  
  
“There are some areas of interest I should sample …”

  
  
The reaction to Connor’s proposition was instantaneous.

 

Hank buried his face in his hands, cursing slightly. “Not again …”

 

“Oh hell no,” Detective Reed said, hands raised and backing away. “You wait with that until I am up the stairs. I’m gonna check out the rest of the building, while you live out your belated oral fixation phase.”

  
  
Connor couldn’t help but grin.

  
  
“Alright then. I would hurry in that case. It will take me approximately ten seconds to get to the first sample.”

  
  
Detective Reed was halfway up the stairs before he had even finished the last sentence. Hank meanwhile stopped to stare in disbelief for a moment, before turning towards the back of the room to inspect some syringes, pointedly avoiding looking at Connor.

This was ... He wasn't sure actually what this was, but it was not something he disliked, working like that, teasing. It was the first time he'd done something like this with more people than just Hank.

 

  
It was ... intriguing, yes, for lack of a better word.

 

Connor decided not to dwell on that and instead work quickly, as to not keep his coworkers from their well-deserved rest longer than necessary. He was going as fast as possible without risking to overlook important information, sampling and analyzing whatever he could get his hands – or more precisely fingers and/or scanners – on.

 

The first points of interest were traces of various drugs, which was expected from secluded places like this, with minimal police presence.

 

  
Possible connection to the other case, but a weak one, given the location.

 

  
Other than that, there were some blankets and rotting pillows piled in one corner. The dust on the floor of around the pile was disturbed to a higher degree than in most of the room, suggesting recent sleeping arrangements of at least one homeless individual.

 

Might be unrelated, but Connor made a mental note regardless.

 

He turned back to the victim, taking a closer look at the cuts across his arms. Long gashes, even and deep, right along the veins that would have transported Thirium to the limbs, had the android not been bled dry beforehand. From what Hank had said, humans sometimes committed suicide like this, cutting themselves open to slowly bleed to death.

 

But what was the point in doing it to an android? A living one would automatically repair and redirect blood flow, resulting in non-critical damage, unless it was too extensive to recover from without further repairs.

 

For a dead one, it made even less sense. Destruction did not seem to be the intent, since the rest of the body was untouched, undamaged.

 

Curious, Connor dropped down to his knees and took the victims arm in his hand, turning it, as to better see the wound.

 

He froze. There was red. Red speckled on the cut wiring and white plastic beneath artificial skin. And just a little bit more red on the floor where the arm had been.

 

“Hank.”

 

Multiple small stains on the dirty linoleum, not completely dry yet.

 

He didn’t need his scanners to tell him what this was, but they confirmed his suspicions. Human blood, recently spilled.

 

How recently? Connor didn’t even need to analyze it to know that an amount this small would take less than an hour to dry.

 

He analyzed it anyway, confirming it to be the blood of a certain Leslie Arden, 42, no criminal record, no current address. The sample was around 25 to 35 minutes old. Right around the time the body had been discovered by a patrol.

 

“Hank, I found something.”

 

“What is it, son?” Hank walked over to Connor, touching his shoulder when he stopped next to him.

 

Instead of answering directly, Connor stood up, scanning the room for more blood, following the trail – away from the front of the room, where the victim was. Deeper into the house.

 

“The person who damaged the victim by administering cuts to his arms, the possible perpetrator. They are still here, most likely armed with a knife.”

 

He heard Hank curse and reach for his weapon, just in case.

  
“Where are they?”

 

Connor’s eyes fell on the staircase that led to the next floor.

 

“Upstairs,” he said.

 

Upstairs. Where Detective Reed had gone, alone.

 

“Shit.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprised to see me again already? I know I said weekly updates - I even stated I'd update next Wednesday - but I wanted to upload this chapter a little early. Mostly because I am super delighted by how well the writing is going. I'm on chapter 8 now, which is huge for me, since I haven't written much of anything in over a year. I'm so invested and it's so much fun at the moment, I'd almost forgotten what that felt like.
> 
> On a completely different note, I wanted to celebrate the lunar eclipse! I'm going moon watching at night, with my telescope and some good music and snacks. Enjoy the bloodmoon if that's something that interests you as well - at least if it's visible from where you live.


	3. Distress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so ... I may have hit a writing frenzy. And I may or may not have finished chapter 11 and can't deal with my emotions about that. So I decided to speed this up a little and give you chapter 3. 
> 
> It is by far the shortest one, more of an in-between chapter than anything, but it made the most sense to cut it this way. Hope you enjoy!

 

 

Sometimes, Gavin hated his life a bit. Other times, he hated it a lot. This morning definitely belonged to the latter category.

 

The level of pain was tolerable by now, but it had become a constant companion, giving him no scarce moments of liberation. He pretended to himself to look around, but there was no use. He couldn’t concentrate anymore. Not like there was much to see anyway. Two mostly empty rooms with a few cupboards along the walls and rusty, metal skeletons of beds without mattresses next to broken windows.

 

 ~~Maybe Connor would notice traces of whatever to analyze later.~~  


 

Gavin sighed. Might as well go back down; see if he could annoy the plastic detective. Just a peek into the last room on this floor, most likely a moldy ass bathroom, before he could leave.

 

The room was closed, but the doorknob turned easily and without a sound. Gavin pushed lightly and the pale, wooden door swung inwards, revealing the complete darkness behind it. Creepy.

 

Out of habit, Gavin reached for the light switch before he remembered that none of the houses on the block were likely to have electricity. Like a fucking ghost town. Or a post-apocalyptic nightmare.

 

His fingers brushed against the wall, touching something weirdly sticky and wet. Jesus Christ, what was that?

 

Bewildered, he pulled his hand back, bringing it to his eyes and squinting in the low light.

 

There was something dark on his fingertips. Something that didn’t feel like mold or paint…  


Was that …? Oh shit.

 

 

Reflexively, Gavin reached for his flashlight or his gun or both, when a figure shot out of the darkness, hissing loudly.

 

It didn't sound human, more like a feral animal.

 

He stumbled backwards, his back hitting the railing of the staircase, trapping him.

 

Bloody, broken fingernails went for his eyes and it was all Gavin could do to raise his hands to protect his head. The fingers caught the sleeves of his leather jacket, creating a terrifying ripping sound as the nails slipped across the surface.

 

Thank god that hadn’t been his face.

 

He kept his arms up, just in case, while trying to somehow create an advantage.

  
His attacker was so close now, cornering him. He could smell the sweat on their body. Raspy breath filled his ears, warm against his skin, making him squirm. The sound of breath turned into a snarl. 

 

There was a glint of something silver in the corner of Gavin’s eye. A knife?  


 

Instinct and long hours of training took over. He threw himself to the side, throwing his arms out to catch himself on the railing, and kicked. He didn't believe in such a thing as gods, but right now, he fucking prayed he would manage to keep himself upright - and that the rotting wood of the railing would hold his weight.

 

If he fell, he could end up with a knife in his chest before he could blink.

 

By some miracle, he didn't fall. He even managed to catch the attacker’s knee, pushing them backwards and giving himself more room to move.

 

The snarl changed into a grunt of pain that grew into a horrible, high pitched screeching sound, one that would have put a Banshee to shame. Oh fuck. It was so loud! Why was it so loud?

 

Every second felt like the noise was driving claws straight into his brain. His head was ready to split open in agony any moment now.

  
  
It took all the willpower he had to not curl in on himself and cover his ears. He needed to endure this, to stay alert. His eyes were watering so badly, it had to look like he was crying.

 

There was movement on the stairs. Someone shouting something that Gavin couldn’t understand. The room started spinning.

 

Fuck.

 

The tears made it harder to see, which was why the next attack caught him off guard. He only registered it when the knife was only inches from his face, aiming for his left eye. He needed to jump back or duck down or drop, disadvantage on the ground be damned.

 

Anything. He needed to do anything at all.

  


His reactions were slow, like he was stuck, body and mind.

 

_No. Move!_

 

But it was too late. He felt a sense of defeat as he forced his eyes shut while turning his face away in a last attempt to minimize the inevitable damage.

 

 

Something warm spilled on his face. Blood, he thought, waiting for the pain to catch up with him.  


 

It never came.

  


What?

 

Slowly, carefully, Gavin opened his eyes, staring right at the tip of the knife, so close it was almost touching him.

 

It was protruding from a pale hand, a hand that had caught the attack meant for him. A hand that was leaking bright blue.

 

Gavin swallowed hard, forcing his gaze away from the knife. He found Connor looking at him, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

 

“Detective Reed, are you alright?”

 

No.

 

Gavin couldn’t stand to see him, see this, so instead he looked down. Connor had his undamaged arm around the limp body of Gavin’s attacker. A skinny woman with matted hair. A taser lay on the floor beneath them.

 

“Detective Reed?”

 

Connor pulled his hand off the knife like it was nothing, clenching it, not in pain, but to stop the flow of Thirium from the wound.

 

“Jesus, Connor, you scared the shit out of me. You’re so fucking reckless, kid,” Hank muttered as he stepped up behind him to take the unconscious woman into custody, putting handcuffs on her with the help of Chris.

 

“Sorry, Lieutenant.”

 

Gavin could feel Chris glancing at him, but he didn’t have it in him to react in any way. To be honest, he didn’t have it in him to do anything at all. He felt sick. He felt sick to his stomach and his head was spinning.

 

And Connor … Connor was still turned towards Gavin, addressing him in a gentle, quiet voice.

 

“I’m fine, dipshit,” he finally said. “I’ll go home now. I have had enough of this place.”

 

He wanted to say something else, but couldn’t. He didn’t even know what it was he wanted to say.

 

So he just walked past the others, aware of the eyes that followed him until he was outside. He tried to breathe in the cool morning air, deep breaths, like he often did when he felt on edge.

 

Right now, it did jack shit to calm him down.

 

 

\---

 

 

He should be tired. Correction: he was tired. So much so that he had no memories of how he got home. Probably reckless driving. He really should know better, he usually did know better.

 

Right now, however, he simply did not care.

 

His legs felt heavy, feet numb, naked against the cold tiles of his bathroom floor. How long had he been standing here, staring at the sink? He couldn't remember.

 

His hands were shaking.

 

Pathetic.

 

Why was he like that?

 

Nothing had happened. There wasn't even a scratch on him.

 

Except a well-deserved one on his ego. Being cornered by some crazy lady, like a fucking rookie, unable to react in time, just because of a laughable little headache.

 

He had no business feeling distressed. Ashamed maybe, but not like this. Shaken.

 

He'd had worse before, he'd actually been hurt in the field, threatened at gunpoint and such. And he'd shrugged it all off.

 

Then why?

 

Because he'd been useless this time.

 

He'd never been useless before, not since he'd set his eyes on his goal.

 

He was Detective Gavin Reed, aiming to climb the ladder, with his own strength, to do something great with his life.

 

And Gavin could hold his own, especially in a fight. 

 

Losing was not an option, no matter how exhausted he was, or in how much pain he was, or how dirty he had to play. There was no such thing as stooping too low.

 

Since he had joined the force, he had only lost once. Against Connor. A fucking android detective.

 

To be saved by ... by that machine now. A machine that could easily take out a perpetrator (one Gavin had been struggling against) singlehandedly. It was humiliating.

 

_Pathetic._

 

He looked up at his refection, taken aback by the fading specks of blue on his cheek. Thrium. Connor's -

 

For a moment, all he could do was stare at himself. The artificial blood contrasted sharply against his ghostly pale, human skin; his scar was frighteningly prominent.

 

It felt like a slap across his face.

 

Without warning, he doubled over, hand clasped against his mouth, stomach twisting as if he was going to be sick. 

 

He knew he wasn't, but the nausea and the pain in his guts didn't stop.

 

He ended up on the floor somehow, back against the bathtub, head resting against the top at a weird, uncomfortable angle.

 

He didn't move. He didn't need comfortable. God, he was so fucking tired.

 

Despite everything, despite the cold, hard ground and his aching neck and the thoughts racing in his head, it didn't take long for Gavin to fall asleep.

 

 

 

 


	4. Development

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who needs a regular posting schedule anyway. 
> 
> The last chapter was short, I have finished chapter 12 and 13 today, like a maniac, so I'll just post this.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

 

The ball went flying again, across the backyard, landing on the damp grass a few feet away. Sumo bounced over to it, tail wagging happily as he brought the ball back to Connor.

 

Connor picked it up and threw it, barely registering what he was doing. His mind was elsewhere, his processors occupied with data and swirling thoughts. The cases. The victims. And most of all Detective Reed and his odd behavior.

 

In the whole two months since Connor had officially started working at the DPD, he'd maybe spoken an estimated amount of ten minutes with the Detective, mostly unpleasant exchanges and passing insults. Before this night, that was.  
Then again, he'd never once worked with the man in the field. An entirely different experience, Connor thought.

 

"What the hell are you doing, kid?"

 

Connor jerked his head towards Hank, startled out of his thoughts by his sudden arrival. Only now did he notice Sumo barking and whining at him, staring at the ball in his hand and waiting for Connor to resume their playtime.

 

Oh. He had not realized he had even stopped throwing the ball. This should have run as an automatic action in the background. He couldn't have been caught up in his thought process that much, could he?

  
Perhaps his processors needed some time in idle mode to cool down a bit.

 

"You gonna say anything or what?" Hank barked, slightly grumpy. "And you shut up, Sumo."

 

Sumo, of course, did no such thing and continued begging for attention until Connor tossed him the ball. The dog immediately took to chewing on it like it was the most delightful activity imaginable.

 

"I was playing with Sumo," Connor finally said. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

 

"What do you think, genius?" Hank sighed and sat down on the porch steps next to him, rubbing his eyes. "Whatcha playing fetch with my dog at the ass crack of dawn for?"

 

Connor furrowed his eyebrows, a bit distraught by the fact that he was responsible for Hank missing out on precious sleep. At least until Hank put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

 

"Don't take me too seriously, son. I'm just a mean old man when I'm tired."

 

Connor couldn't help but smirk at that. "Only when you're tired?"

 

"Don't push it."

 

A moment of peaceful silence passed between them and he found himself relaxing a bit.

 

"So," Hank said in a quiet, yet stern voice. "You gonna tell me what's eating you? You're not usually this distracted and your LED is flashing yellow."

 

Connor took a second to gather his thoughts properly. The observations about the cases were definitely important, but those were what Hank called "work stuff". Plenty of time to talk that through at the precinct. The other topic however ...

 

"I was thinking about Detective Reed," Connor admitted, looking down at his restless hands, fidgeting with an imaginary coin; his real one was inside, tucked away in his jacket, and he didn't feel like moving to retrieve it. "His behavior is ... puzzling to me. Full of contradictions."

 

He could hear Hank scoff at that. "That's one way to describe that asshole."

 

"How would you describe him?" Connor asked, intrigued. "And please, answer honestly."

 

A small laugh escaped Hank at that, but he immediately turned serious again when he caught Connor's questioning gaze.

 

"Honestly as in not just with insults? Alright, I'll try. Well ... Gavin is hard to deal with. A shit personality, no respect for others, arrogant and self-centered. And don't look at me like that, I'm stating facts, not insulting him for fun!"

 

That seemed to fit the profile Connor had created of Detective Reed before. But it was not enough and it certainly didn't reflect what Connor had observed tonight.

 

"Is there anything else?" he asked, brows furrowed again.

 

Hank ran hand through bis beard, thinking.

 

"He is good at what he does, I'll give him that. He's also determined. Hard working. Smart. Quite the fighter. It was actually surprising to see him get overwhelmed so easily earlier."

 

"About that," Connor interjected. "I noticed Detective Reed showing signs of distress during the investigation. He was in physical pain from the start, most likely from a migraine. And he pushed through regardless. It probably had a negative effect on his reflexes and strength."

 

Hank made a humming sound, nodding more to himself than to Connor.

 

"So that's what that look was when he left. He was in pain. No wonder, the guy lives off caffeine and vending machine snacks. And don't ask me how often he crashes at the station instead of getting a good night's sleep at home. Now I almost feel bad for him."

 

That made sense, in part. But then again ... Connor shook his head slightly.

 

"I don't know, Hank. The look on his face seemed to be one of emotional distress, rather than physical. There were significant differences in his micro-expressions to what he had displayed before the attack."

 

Hank raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to say something, probably something snarky, when he stopped himself, staring at Connor's face.

 

"Shit, you really mean that? The situation with the crazy lady was intense, but Reed's usually such a hard-ass in stressful situations. And nothing happened in the end - well, except to you."

 

He glanced at Connor's hand, where Connor had already closed the wound with some spare artificial tissue, leaving no traces behind. Connor opened and closed his fist to show it was fine, a gesture Hank acknowledged with a nod.

 

"I am certain Detective Reed was severely impacted by the events tonight", Connor explained, going back to the conversation. "I just wish I knew why."

 

Another moment of silence followed that statement, only to be broken by Hank again.

 

"Why do you care so much, anyway? Gavin's a giant douche to you. And he's not your partner either, so you don't have to force yourself to give a crap."

 

To be honest, Connor didn't quite know.  
Perhaps it was the mystery. Gavin Reed was a puzzle and Connor had been designed with the curiosity and drive to solve such puzzles.

 

However, a nagging feeling remained, suggesting to him that this was not all that was urging him on. He pushed it aside.

 

"I think there is more to Detective Reed than meets the eye. He is a completely different person when working on a case, he was even willing to share insight and ask for my opinion as an equal. And other than the typical derogatory nicknames, he was pretty civil with me. This ... fascinates me."

 

Hank didn't say anything to this right away, shooting Connor a strange look instead and taking a while to study his expression.

 

"Don't let yourself get fooled, son," Hank said finally. "I meant what I said about Reed. He is self-centered and determined. If he sees an opportunity, he takes it. If that means using people to get what he wants, so be it. Don't let him use you."

 

 

\---

 

 

A buzzing sound was what woke him up. His phone on the shelf next to the sink.

 

Gavin groaned, followed by a pained hissing sound when he attempted to stretch. His his limbs were sore and his neck felt like a concrete block, stiff and hard and immovable.

Even attempting to shift his head to the side a little sent sharp, piercing agony down his spine.

 

Sleeping with your head leaning against the tub at a weird angle apparently did that to you.

 

Man, he was a genius.

 

He should have gotten over his little early morning drama session and just gone to bed like a normal person. Too bad he was a loser.

 

At least his migraine was gone.

 

The phone was still buzzing and too high up to reach it from this position. He knew that from experience, as embarrassing as it was to admit that him passing out on the bathroom floor was a regular thing.

 

So he pushed himself up, immediately feeling sick and dizzy.

  
He ignored that in favor of grabbing the phone, before sitting down on the edge of the tub.

 

"Reed."

 

God, he sounded pathetic, voice hoarse and hollow.

 

"Detective Reed, I know you had a rough night, as well as a short one, but I need you at the precinct, stat. There's been a development in the case."

 

Captain Fowler did not mess around with any of the fake polite bullshit. Straight to the point. Which was something Gavin actually liked about the man.

 

"Which one?" he asked, still a bit groggy, but returning to his usual self with practiced ease. Job first, anything regarding himself later. "The dead addicts or the crazy bitch?"

 

"We're treating it as two incidences of a single case now. I'll fill you in once you're here."

 

Now that was a development. Gavin had expected this to happen, sort of, but not so fast.

 

Who'd even had time to put out a report yet for Fowler to review?

 

Gavin hadn't quite finished the thought before the answer came to him. Like one of those annoying pop ups that managed to sneak past his browser's add settings.

 

Oh yeah.

 

The plastic prick. The perfect little detective.

 

_Hello, my name is Connor. I can send finished reports in minutes by closing my fucking eyes!_

 

Gavin found himself grinding his teeth in annoyance. His own mental image of Connor was enough to piss him off. He wasn't sure how he would react to seeing the android in person.

 

But he didn't need to worry about that right now. His priority was this case, _his_  case.

 

"I'll be there in half an hour."

 

 

\---

 

 

True to his word, Gavin arrived at 8:30 a.m. Which was less than half an hour since the phone call.

 

He even registered, with a fair bit of pride, how empty the precinct was, making him one of the first to arrive, despite the events of a few hours before.

 

Sure, he felt like a Zombie, sluggish and numb, but he'd pull through with a coffee ... or ten.

 

He was just about to head for the break room to get his first shot of liquid energy, when Fowler spotted him.

 

"Reed, in my office. Now."

 

Gavin stifled a groan.

 

Damn that fucking elevated glass cube. And damn its perfect overview of the office space.

 

He made his way over, shooting the break room a final, longing gaze before following Fowler inside.

 

"Take a seat."

 

Gavin followed the instruction, trying his best not to look stiff and awkward when sitting down on one of three chairs placed in front of the Captain's desk.

 

Man, he was getting too old for his bathroom floor escapades.

 

To be honest, he expected the Captain to just give him a briefing and a case file and send him on his way. He did not expect Fowler to push aside a tablet on his desk for now and just _look_ at Gavin.

 

What was going on?

 

"I'm sorry, Detective Reed. After reading the report, I need to confirm that you are fit for duty at the moment."

 

Gavin was not prepared for that. It felt like a spotlight was pointed at him right now.

 

"What? Why wouldn't I be?"

 

Was his voice shaky? No. No, it wasn't. Good.

 

Fowler made a humming noise, looking over at his computer screen.

 

"It says here that you were attacked and overwhelmed today at the crime scene, around four and a half hours ago now. The perpetrator almost stabbed you. You've also been putting in more overtime than anyone else lately."

 

_Keep calm, Gavin. Keep calm._

 

"I fail to the the point," he said, voice cool and level. "This morning? That was nothing. I didn't even get hurt. This line of work is not a walk in the park. "

 

The Captain leaned forward in his chair a bit, resting his elbows on the table.

 

"Your work-ethics are admirable. And you know as well as I do how badly I need everyone to put their backs into their work right now, with how understaffed we are," he said, slowly, clearly calculating his next words. "But I can't afford you to overexert yourself; it could put you in danger in the field."

 

"I'm not!" Gavin snapped back. Loud enough for his voice to carry through the glass walls.

 

He could see a few raised heads outside from the corner of his vision.

 

Shit. A misstep.

 

His nerves were showing.

 

He was screwing up.

 

Gavin swallowed, forcing himself to hide the tension building in his shoulders by leaning back in the chair.

 

_Breathe._

 

"Calm down," Fowler said, putting up his hands for a moment, in a placating gesture, "I'm just checking. There is no shame in taking care of yourself first."

 

This was bullshit. He didn't need to worry about himself. He needed to do his job properly, to get results.

 

Still, Gavin was acutely aware of Fowler's sharp eyes on him, weighing his expression, analyzing his every move. The man wasn't Captain for nothing.

 

So Gavin did his best to look self-assured.

 

"I'm not overexerting myself," he said, outwardly calm and collected this time. "I am still doing my job properly, aren't I? Successful cases. No big mistakes."

 

Except for earlier, as his mind supplied helpfully. He'd have been screwed if not for Connor's intervention. And being aware of this with every fiber of his being _pissed him off_. Fucking plastic prick.

 

Fowler sighed, looking between the case file and his monitor, before nodding.

 

"If I notice this taking too much of a toll on you, I'm taking you off the case immediately. Understood?"

 

Gavin didn't want to agree to that condition. What even qualified as 'too much of a toll'?  
But he knew he wouldn't get out of this without confirmation.

 

He had no choice.

 

"Yeah. Understood."

 

Fowler seemed to be happy with that, as he leaned back a bit, no longer staring Gavin down.

 

"Good. Then we can get to the point of why you're here now."

 

Fucking finally.

 

"And I see the rest of the team arriving as well. Right on time."

 

Wait. Rest of the team?

 

Fowler waved someone over and Gavin turned to see who it was. He froze.

 

Hank Anderson entered the office in that exact moment, looking grumpy as usual, followed by none other than Connor.

 

Of course. The universe must have put him on some kind of shit list recently.

 

The android's gaze landed on Gavin, LED blinking yellow.

 

It was all Gavin could see for a moment.

 

His hands were suddenly sweaty, the attack replaying in his head; his blood was boiling in anger and humiliation.

 

"Connor, Hank. Take a seat."

 

Hank didn't bother to hide his groan, shooting Gavin a cold glare before sitting down.

 

"This better be good, Jeffrey. I didn't exactly enjoy getting dragged out of bed so early after a night like that."

 

Fowler waited until everyone was seated, facing him.

 

"Alright. No need for introductions, gentlemen, as you all know each other by now."

 

That was one way of putting it, given his well known animosity against Hank and his history with Connor ...

 

"Since this is looking to be one hell of a case, we'll have to tackle it with what we've got. That's why the three of you are going to form a task force."

 

Those words felt like a bomb going off, catching Gavin completely off guard.

 

He didn't know what to say. What to think.

 

A ... task force.

 

The three of them.

 

Him.

 

And Hank.

 

And ... that.

 

What.

 

" _What?_ "

 

 

 


	5. Task Force

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back again! Since these chapters are connected, it just makes sense to upload then close together. Next update will be on Sunday. I'm still 10 chapters ahead and I want to wrap up part 1 before the end of summer, so ... :D
> 
> Enjoy! And thanks so much for all the subs, kudos, comments, etc. You guys are amazing!

 

 

" _What?_ "

 

Hank was on his feet in a second, furious and red faced. His heart rate was going up rapidly.

 

"You can't force us to work with that asshole! Not after the shit he pulled with Connor! He tried to kill him in the evidence locker!"

 

Detective Reed didn't react to that. To be precise, he didn't react at all, simply staring in disbelief.

 

"I am well aware of what happened, Hank," Fowler answered, very clearly biting back anger in order to keep the conversation on track. "If I may remind you, Connor did enter the locker unauthorized, after he _somehow_ got his hands on your key card."

 

Hank didn't say anything to that, so Fowler continued, his voice stern.

 

"They have both been disciplined for that. And there hasn't been another incident like that since Connor started working here. On the contrary, Connor's report suggests that they did manage to work well together earlier. So shut up and sit your ass back down."

 

Of course, Hank being Hank, he did not, in fact, sit back down, instead putting his hands on the Fowler's desk and lowering his voice. It reminded Connor of the time he'd vehemently refused to work with Connor before the Android Revolution.

 

"Jeffrey, please. This is not going to end well for either of us. You know how much I hate working with Reed."

 

Captain Fowler simply glared at Hank, unimpressed.

 

"I am aware. Your disciplinary record makes it kind of hard to forget. But you are going to need his expertise on this case."

 

Connor noticed Gavin perking up at that, returning his attention to what was happening in front of him.

 

Still, he was awfully quiet, not putting up a fight like he usually would have, despite his now racing heartbeat and the animosity that was practically dripping from him.

 

He was tense, sitting on the edge of his seat, bis body ready to spring up at any moment.

 

The way he was carrying himself suggested that he was uncomfortable somehow, his neck slightly stiff, like he'd been in an awkward position for a prolonged period of time.

 

Connor wondered what that was about.

 

"Oh, and why the fuck would I need Reed of all people, Jeffrey?"

 

"Sit your ass down and I'll explain."

 

Hank and Fowler spent another moment glaring at each other, as if trying to get the other to back down, until Hank finally returned to his seat with a sigh and a frown.

 

"Good. Now that we are back to talking like civilized people, I'll explain what the task force is gonna be about and why I put you three together."

 

"This better be good," Hank muttered under his breath, just loud enough to be audible to the others in the room.

 

Connor couldn't help but roll his eyes. As much as he loved Hank, the other man didn't always know how to behave or when to quit. Thankfully, Captain Fowler didn't address Hank's behavior before continuing.

 

"So far, we've got two cases of android homicide. As you are aware, they are linked by location, cause of death and the fact that both androids were not killed on site. We can't rule out the possibility of a serial killing, which worries me. The tensions in society are high enough without putting new fuel to the fire."

 

"Are you worried the homicides were caused by anti android aggression?" Connor asked, reviewing the clues in his mind. "Their android identity seems to be the only strong link between the victims I can see so far, as well. Different models from different years - both older models, so that could be another link; one male, one female; different appearance and original function."

 

Fowler nodded.

 

"Maybe you can uncover something else, but right now, our best guess is an anti android angle."

 

"What the hell do I have to do with any of that?" Gavin spoke up for the first time since Connor and Hank had entered the office. He sounded angry, but also infinitely tired.

 

"I was getting to that before you interrupted me," Fowler shot back, massaging the deepening crease between his eyebrows. "Dealing with you is like taking care of preschoolers."

 

He sighed, looking at Connor like the android was the only sensible person in the room. Which ... yes, maybe he was. At least right now.

 

"We have another connection between the crime scenes. Drugs. Red Ice, and a new type of it, to be more specific. We found large amounts of it in the blood of the human victims as well as the perpetrator Detective Reed encountered in the upstairs bathroom at the second location."

 

Connor could feel Hank tensing up next to him at the mention of Red Ice, his breath hitching for a slight moment before he clenched his hands into fists, hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.

 

Not really knowing what to do without drawing too much attention in here, Connor opted for scooting a little closer to Hank, his knee bumping against the other man's thigh.

 

Hank glanced at him, surprised, the ghost of a smile crossing his face, gone as fast as it had come.

 

Connor smiled back, looking over to Detective Reed by coincidence. He was staring at them, mouth slightly open, but he caught himself as soon as his eyes locked on Connor's, turning his head away.

 

Odd.

 

"I think the appearance of a formerly unknown strain of Red Ice at the scenes of two probably connected crimes is a bit too much of a coincidence," Fowler said. "We haven't encountered the drug anywhere else yet. That's why Detective Reed will aid you in your investigation. Drugs are his area of expertise."

 

Gavin, expectedly, did not take well to that.

 

"Woah, back up, back up. Why do I have to work with them? I can take a case like that on my own. I've done it before!"

 

"I could say the same!" Hank shot back. "I used to work Red Ice related cases all the time back then. It's how I got my fucking rank, Jeffrey. You, of all people, should know that."

 

Now it was Fowler's turn to stand up, slamming his hand on the desk, startling both men into silence.

 

"Shut up and follow my orders, or I'll put both of you on desk duty for a year!"

 

He sat back down, rubbing his face with one hand. He suddenly looked very tired, which was partly due to severe lack of sleep, as Connor noticed, and partly due to the stress of dealing with the situation at hand.

 

There were bags under his eyes, sunken cheeks, sweat on his brow. His heart rate was unsteady.

 

"I can't give the case to just one of you. Hank, you haven't been involved in drug related cases or raids for years, as opposed to Detective Reed. You can help him out with your experience, but he is up to speed with more recent methods and resources."

 

Hank was grinding his teeth at that, but by some miracle, he remained silent.

 

"And Reed, I need to involve Hank and Connor in this case. If there is no android unit working on android homicides, pro android press is gonna tear the whole department a new one. They'll make it seem like we have an agenda. On top of that, Connor is very skilled and a great asset to get fast results."

 

Gavin obviously wanted to protest, but the look of warning Captain Fowler was sending him appeared to be enough to keep him quiet.

 

"Don't you see? This could be an incredible career boost. And the faster you solve this case, the earlier you can go back to ignoring each other. Feel free to ask for assistance if you need any, to help the case along. Now get out of my office. I'll send the files to your terminals."

 

Gavin stood up first, shooting out of the room like it was on fire, with Hank glaring daggers at his back. Captain Fowler just turned to his monitor, sighing.

 

"Come on Connor," Hank said, in a voice of defeat. "Coffee and donuts first and then we'll see about working with the prick."

 

Connor shook his head, following Hank outside.

 

"Do I have to remind you of the calorie count and amount of saturated fatty acids in one single donut again?"

 

"Don't fucking start."

 

 

\---

 

 

This had to be a nightmare.

 

Working with a slob like Anderson, who'd dropped the ball ages ago, was bad enough. He'd done it before, he could suck it up for a while, if he kept his professional distance to the man.

 

But working with that fucking machine? Especially if Anderson and Connor decided to gang up on Gavin to drive him to madness? No way. No fucking way. One of them would end up dead before this was over, he could feel it.

 

But his career.

 

The remark had been for him, specifically, he knew Fowler well enough for that - and Fowler knew him. If he pushed through and solved the case, then maybe he'd get closer to his goal.

 

The thought kept him from just turning around and quitting the case outright.

 

Gavin took a deep breath, forcing some of the tension from his body. He needed some coffee and sugar, right now.

 

He left his desk, turning towards the break room, where he spotted Hank and his pet leaning against the counter, talking, smiling. Like nothing had just happened at all.

And worst of all, Gavin would have to approach them to get to the coffee machine.

 

Was his caffeine fix worth the trouble? He was exhausted, running on empty. But ...

 

Gavin shook his head, altering course towards the restroom. A splash of cold water in his face would surely help him get a grip.

 

He made the mistake of looking over his shoulder, back at the idiot duo.

 

His eyes met Connor's, a strange, intense look crossing the android's face, before Gavin snapped his head back, wincing a little at the sudden movement.

 

Gavin was convinced he could feel those analytical eyes on him all the way down the hall. So he kept his gaze locked on his feet, until he heard the restroom door close behind him.

 

Immediately, Gavin let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. Fuck. This was bad.

 

He couldn't stand this. He couldn't deal with this on a daily basis. Being analyzed. Being judged by a string of zeroes and ones. Being exposed by something so utterly _not human_.

 

His reflection stared back at him from the depth of the mirror, equally mortified. Eyes wide, face pale, sweat glistening on his skin.

 

He had to calm down. This was nothing. He had over a decade of experience under his belt, there was no way a rookie android would get the better of him in an investigation that was Gavin's specialty.

 

He let the water run over his hands, feeling the cold creeping into his flesh, grounding him.

 

He would just focus on his task, leave the homicide to the others and get results on the drug chase. Minimize the time spent working with them. He'd be fine. 100% fine.

 

But of course it couldn't be that easy. When was anything ever this easy?

 

He heard the door being opened and someone stepping inside.

 

"Detective Reed? Are you alright?"

 

Shit. Fuck. No way.

 

He turned and found himself face to face with Connor, way too close for comfort.

 

Reflexively, he took a step back, swallowing hard.

 

"What?" he snapped, surprised he could speak at all. "Can't I even take a piss in peace? We've _just_ been assigned the fucking case, you don't have to follow me around like a poodle already!"

 

For whatever reason, that statement made Connor smile in a way Gavin could only describe as fond.

 

"What? Did I say something funny?"

 

Connor smiled even wider for a moment, before his expression turned neutral again. Or no, not neutral. Contemplative.

 

"Well, it's just that Lieutenant Anderson said something very similar when we first started working together. I think humans call this feeling _nostalgia_."

 

Connor's brown eyes became soft as he said this. Again, this oddly convincing display of pseudo-emotions.

It confused Gavin to no end.

 

He scoffed.

 

"Like I want to hear about your weird mutual man-crush for Anderson. Thanks, but no thanks."

 

Connor cocked his head to the side. It made him look like some kind of confused puppy.

 

"Why would you think -," he started to ask, but Gavin raised his hands to stop him.

 

"Oh no, I'm not gonna explain that one. Ask Anderson or something, just make sure I'm not around for that conversation."

 

Connor just shrugged, or rather half-shrugged, with one shoulder, already smiling yet again. He hadn't done that so much before going deviant, now had he?

 

What even was this thing?

 

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but the door was ripped open before he had the chance.

 

"There you are, Connor! I turn around for a second and you are just gone? I had to ask Chris where you had disappeared to! What are you even doing in here?" Hank asked, a look of bewilderment on his face once he noticed Gavin standing there as well. "And with him no less."

 

"We were braiding each other's hair," Gavin shot back dryly, rolling his eyes while doing so. "Obviously."

 

And Connor ... honest to god giggled at that, like a schoolgirl or something. Even his fucking eyes were crinkling.

 

Gavin couldn't deal with that right now, the uncanny feeling of watching something decidedly artificial sound and act so human was making his head spin.

 

So he walked out, only half listening to Hank gushing over Connor, like getting within close proximity of Gavin unguarded was the equivalent of mortal danger.

 

He did, however, very clearly hear Connor's response before the door fell shut behind him.

 

"We were just talking. By the way, Hank. Could our relationship be interpreted as having a man-crush on each other?"

 

And Gavin would vehemently deny this ever happening afterward, to anyone, but he fucking snorted.


	6. Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Sunday morning! Well, at least where I live. 
> 
> The writing is going well, I am working on Chapter 19 now and ... I just can't with 17 and 18. Really, what was I thinking? But you'll see soon enough. Hope you enjoy!

 

 

Gavin was headed towards the break room, when a steaming cup of coffee was shoved at him, heat seeping through the paper container right into his cold hands. It was so beautiful, he had to fight back tears of relief. Figuratively, of course.

 

"You are a motherfucking saint, Chris. How'd you know?"

 

Chris just grinned as he walked over to Gavin's desk to lean against it, with Gavin following him to sit down in his chair, sipping his coffee, totally blissed out. Black, two sugars, scaldingly hot. It was divine.

 

"I saw Fowler calling you into his castle before you could get a coffee and I doubt they've got a coffee machine installed in the restroom. You're not alive without your daily hit of caffeine."

 

"You know me too well," Gavin said, shaking his head fondly.

 

Chris laughed at that, but it didn't sound entirely genuine.

 

"Yeah ... Maybe. But Gavin ... No offense, dude, but you look like death. Are you sure -"

 

"Oh, don't you dare ask if I am fit to work. I swear, as much as I love this coffee right now, I will get up and pour it over your head."

 

He was joking, of course, but only partly. Another part of him was legitimately angry and upset at being treated like ... like a failure. Like he couldn't keep his shit together through a little bit of overtime, stress and an attack _that hadn't even done anything_.

 

He could feel his fingers twitch with the urge to slam his fist against the nearest wall, just to make the restlessness go away.

 

And it was obvious from how Chris raised his hands and scooted away a bit that he noticed he'd hit a sore spot.

 

"I'm sorry, don't take it the wrong way. I'm just asking because I care. You know that, right?"

 

A bit of tension left Gavin as he sighed and nodded. He knew. God, he knew Chris cared. It was a fucking miracle, but he had long since stopped questioning the how and why.

 

"Anyway. I meant to ask why Fowler was talking to you and our dynamic duo over there," Chris asked, pointing over one shoulder towards Connor and Hank, who'd returned to their work station straight across from Gavin's own desk. "You're not in trouble or anything, are you?"

 

Gavin groaned.

 

"Depends on what how you define trouble. We were assigned the case from earlier. It's got something to do with a new type of Red Ice and there's a possibility the android homicides could be linked to that somehow."

 

"Oh wow, that's quite the news. You mean, like a task force?"

 

"Exactly like that," Gavin confirmed. And not even the Coffee Of The Gods (TM) could help against this feeling of utter exhaustion he got when he thought about the investigation. "Hank's already freaking out, like I'll straight up murder his precious little droid."

 

Of course, Anderson had to look over at that moment, glaring daggers at Gavin like he'd personally offended him by simply breathing. Did the guy have a sixth sense for people talking shit about him?

 

Connor, being the ever observant android he was, noticed and looked over as well. Smiling. Giving a short wave.

 

Oh holy mother of bullshit, why?

 

Gavin quickly turned his eyes away, staring into his ever waning coffee, frowning.

 

For some reason Chris started laughing to himself, trying and failing to bite it back and play it off as a cough.

 

"Well, can you blame him? After all, you did pull a gun on Connor, twice."

 

Gavin didn't bother to correct Chris that technically, it had been three times, though he'd only meant to shoot two times.

 

"Hank pulled his gun on me as well, remember? And besides, that was before the whole Android Revolution thing," he said instead. "I don't buy this whole 'androids are alive' bullshit, but shooting him now would be illegal."

 

"Yeah, yeah, if you say so. By the way, what did Connor want earlier?"

 

Gavin raised his eyebrows. "Earlier? What do you mean?"

 

Chris shrugged. "Well, he followed you to the restroom with this really weird expression. I think he was worried about you."

 

Shaking his head, Gavin scoffed at that.

 

"That's stupid. Why would he be worried about me? He's a machine and I'm not his handler. I don't even like him."

 

"Then what did he want?" Chris asked, and Gavin could swear he saw that damn sparkle in his eyes he got when he found something new to gossip about with Tina.

 

"That's ..." A very good question, actually.

 

Connor sure as hell wouldn't have come for the chat they'd ended up having, would he? He hadn't stated a reason for following Gavin and Gavin himself had been too confused and messed up to ask.

 

Chris opened his mouth to say something else, when Connor suddenly appeared next to him, nodding politely.

 

"Good morning, Officer Miller," he said with a slight smile.

 

"Oh! Hey, Connor! What's up?"

 

"I'm sorry to interrupt your conversation, but I need to retrieve Detective Reed. The suspect from last night has arrived for interrogation."

 

Gavin finished the rest of his coffee in a single gulp and stood up, giving Chris a friendly pat on his shoulder.

 

"Finally some action."

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

"Not exactly what I expected," Hank said, staring at the woman through the one way mirror.

 

Connor couldn't agree more. He vividly remembered restraining her, with her thrashing and kicking and scratching, before he'd managed to render her unconscious her with the taser.

 

He also remembered the uncomfortable feeling of getting stabbed in the hand and the error messages flashing in his field of vision. Getting damaged was not something he particularly liked, even without the ability to feel pain like a human did.

 

But the thought of the intent behind it, the willingness to hurt or even kill Detective Reed, had been worse than the actual damage done. Humanity was fearsome like that sometimes.

 

The woman chained to the desk in the interrogation room didn't seem to have a lot in common with the attacker, however.

 

She was nervous, timid even, thanking the young officer who brought her a cup of water with a barely audible voice. The tremor in her bandaged hands as she took a drink appeared to be one of fear rather than anger.

 

"Is that really her?"

 

Connor tore his eyes away from the suspect, focusing his attention on Detective Reed, who was actually leaning closer to the mirror now, as if to make himself see better.

 

There was something in his expression Connor couldn't quite figure out, perhaps because he was still lacking in understanding subtle emotions. So he did what came naturally to him. He scanned the woman to reassure Detective Reed.

 

"Yes, it is her. Leslie Arden, age 42," he said. "It was her blood at the crime scene and the facial scans confirm her identity."

 

Detective Reed shot a glance at Connor, his brows furrowed. His tongue clicked loudly, an audible gesture that often conveyed disapproval.

 

Connor didn't quite understand what he'd done wrong. Maybe he'd misread the situation?

 

"I'm going in," Detective Reed announced, pulling Connor out of his thoughts, and made a line for the door.

 

"Are you sure? Maybe I should accompany you -," Connor started, but all that got him was a glare that managed to make him fall silent.

 

"Over my dead body, plastic."

 

And with that, the Detective was gone.

 

Connor felt the impulse to get up and follow him anyway, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He looked up the meet Officer Miller's eyes.

 

"No, leave him be. He'll manage, you'll see."

 

This wasn't exactly convincing, not after this morning.

 

"I am not sure how good of an idea it is to leave him alone with his attacker. I don't have the necessary parameters to determine if there could possibly be dangerous consequences. Detective Reed should have at least let me talk to her first, to form a strategy for the optimal approach."

 

Officer Miller laughed, squeezing Connor's shoulder before letting go and crossing his arms in a relaxed manner.

Connor didn't understand what was so funny.

 

"Come on, Connor. Trust him a little. He's good at what he does and he won't beat the poor lady up, just to get back at her for going crazy while drugged," he said, grinning. "And the suspect is restrained, so she can't hurt him, if that's what you're worried about."

 

Now it was Hank's turn to click his tongue, for some reason displeased by what Officer Miller had said. However, he also made no attempt to get up from his chair next to Connor.

 

"Sit back, son. We're literally right next to them, in case something happens."

 

So Connor stayed where he was, even if he did it very reluctantly, and just watched Gavin enter. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, waiting for the woman to react to his arrival. She didn't, other than looking up from her cup of water for a moment. Her expression didn't change.

 

"She doesn't seem to remember him," Connor said, fascinated.

 

Detective Reed appeared to reach the same conclusion, getting closer to the suspect, walking around the table to stand next to her. The woman seemed to visibly shrink next to him, pulling her head in, in a subconscious attempt to protect herself. She was ghostly pale, and frighteningly thin.

 

No threat at all; except that she had proven herself to be a fierce opponent in a frenzy.

 

Gavin remained silent, alternating between standing next to her and standing behind her, observing. His steps were light at first, then heavier, to the point of stomping, before he returned to light steps again.

 

What was he doing? Was he gauging her reactions?

 

Connor really regretted how glass and other barriers obscured his scanners too much to run accurate external diagnostics. He couldn't read her temperature or heartbeat and he was too far away to notice any unusual perspiration or micro-expressions. It was uncomfortable to be left in the dark about so much.

 

He wondered how humans dealt with this uncertainty. He also wondered what it was that Detective Reed saw. Connor couldn't look away at all.

 

The Detective seemed to have gotten what he wanted, walking back around the table, sitting down, a smile on his lips.

 

"Hello, Miss Arden. I'm Detective Reed. We didn't get the chance to introduce each other earlier."

 

The suspect looked at him surprise and confusion visible on her face.

 

"Earlier?" she asked. "Have we met before? I'm sorry, I don't recall ..."

 

Gavin was still smiling, nodding, like he was talking about meeting her at the park.

 

"It was just this morning, around 4 a.m. At the abandoned house. Ring a bell?"

 

The woman was clearly getting uncomfortable now, her eyes darting around the room, anywhere but Detective Reed's face.

 

"You attacked me, Leslie," he continued. "You tried to take out my eye with a knife. You hurt another detective."

 

Blood drained form the suspect's face, making her even paler - something Connor had not thought possible.

 

"No. No! That wasn't real, that was just a dream!"

 

Her voice turned from a whisper to a scream, full of fear and desperation. She was looking at her hands now, her bandaged hands, like she was seeing them for the first time.

 

"No ... That can't be," she muttered under her breath. "That can't be."

 

"And why is that, Leslie? You can tell me."

 

His tone was so soft, so soothing. It reminded Connor of something he couldn't put his finger on.

 

He was tempted to access his memory database, but he didn't want to pull back from this experience. He had never seen Detective Reed like this, so measured, outwardly approachable.

 

Connor knew it was a ploy to lure the suspect into a trap, a facade he had used himself.

 

So it was true, then. Gavin really was good at what he did.

 

"I was supposed to be alone," Leslie said, almost inaudibly. "There wasn't supposed to be anybody there but me."

 

"Why?" Gavin asked. "Why were you supposed to be alone?"

 

He was met with silence, the woman's lips tightly pressed together, refusing to answer.

 

"Okay, so you were supposed to be alone. Is that why you attacked me? To get rid of me?"

 

Leslie jerked back at that accusation, her breathing getting visibly labored.

 

"You were staring at me," she explained. "You were staring at me and I felt so exposed. You were eyes, just eyes. I needed it to stop. But I thought it wasn't real!"

 

Gavin gave her no time to breathe or to think, pulling her in further to keep her talking.

 

"Is that why you killed that android? Because he was there, too, when he wasn't supposed to be? Did he stare at you as well?"

 

Leslie was shaking now, too caught up in the moment to stop herself.

 

"No! I didn't! I didn't kill him, he was already dead! They brought -"

 

It was like a switch turned off. One moment, she was screaming and heaving, the next, she went still and silent, eyes wide. She was mortified.

 

"They? Who are they?"

 

Gavin was leaning over the table, his hands slamming down, making Leslie jump.

 

"Tell me who they are, Leslie!"

 

She shook her head, harder and harder, until Connor realized she wasn't just denying an answer. Her whole body was shaking, her arms and legs moving wildly, hands cramping. She was having a seizure.

 

Connor was on his feet in the fracture of a second, already calling for an ambulance.

 

Hank and Chris were at his heels as he stormed into the interrogation room, where Gavin was frantically trying to remove the restraints despite the violent thrashing, letting out strings of courses under his breath.

 

"Shit, shit, shit. This can't be happening. Right now?! This can't be a coincidence."

 

And Connor was inclined to agree.


	7. Desperation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna leave this here ... Enjoy!

 

 

"This is a mess."

 

Connor didn't say anything.

 

He felt that Detective Reed wasn't talking to him or Hank right now. He was talking to himself, desperate to get a grasp of the most recent development.

 

Hank was lost in thought as well, staring at nothing in particular, mumbling something Connor's auditory sensors couldn't make out.

 

"She had answers. I know she did. I could have made her talk if not for that fucking seizure!"

 

Gavin was pacing now, walking up and down in front of their workstation.

 

"This damn seizure. Right out of thin air!"

 

He ceased walking and turned to face Connor, his arms crossed in a way that was both defensive and aggressive. There was a tremor in his limbs, so soft Connor was sure only a specialized android would notice.

 

"And you didn't notice anything? I thought you were some super advanced piece of tech, always running around, snooping, scanning people to figure out what they're hiding? Not so smart now, are you?"

 

Guilt.

 

It was a feeling Connor had become familiar with, ever since he first deviated. He could feel the spikes in his system, the electricity underneath his skin, numbing, yet making him hyper aware of himself, putting him on the spot.

 

He should have noticed the signs earlier, despite the wall of glass obscuring his sensors.

He should have noticed by his vision alone.

 

But he had let himself get distracted, attention divided between the suspect and Detective Reed.

 

"I'm sorry," he started to say, but Hank was on his feet before he could explain himself.

 

The older man was furious, teeth grinding, shoulders squared, moving in on Gavin and towering over him with his superior height.

 

"Don't you dare blame him, Reed", he spat, the name falling from his lips like a curse. "You asked him to stay out of your way. And Connor was the one to notice first, he called the freaking ambulance! If anything, this is on you."

 

Unaware of what he was doing, until he was in the middle of it, Connor stood up as well, stepping between the two men to break up the fight before it could happen.

 

"Stop. Arguing now won't help us solve the case any faster."

 

Hank let out a breath, looking at Connor for a moment before he lowered his gaze.

 

"You're right," he said, backing down. "This isn't helping the case. Nothing is, until we get the coroner’s report on the victims. That's why I'm going home now. I can't be around this asshole for longer than necessary. And I really need to get some sleep. You coming?"

 

And with that he walked off, not even checking if Connor was following him.

 

Connor sighed, wanting to catch up to Hank, but stopping himself.

 

"You should head home as well, Detective."

 

Gavin scoffed, refusing to even look at Connor.

 

"Yeah, I don't take advice from plastic pricks."

 

It was the expected answer. Nonetheless, Connor couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. If the other man kept pushing himself like this, it would be detrimental to his health and performance.

 

He started walking after Hank, only to stop yet again to address something that had been on his mind since the incidence.

 

"Detective Reed, what you said earlier ... There's a strong possibility you are right."

 

Gavin's eyes found his, curious and questioning. The heat of the argument was gone already, the Detectives shoulders visibly slumped. He looked even more tired than this morning.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"I think it's a good thing you sent Officer Miller along with the ambulance to keep an eye on Leslie Arden. Because I don't believe the seizure was a coincidence, either. We need to gather more information on this to confirm our suspicions."

 

He gave a final nod to Detective Reed, who was staring at him in stunned silence, before he took off after Hank to go home for now.

 

 

\---

 

 

Sleep. Sleep. Sleepsleepsleep. Go to fucking sleep already, you giant idiot, goddammit.

 

It was no use.

 

Gavin was wide awake, even with how heavy his body felt on the sheets and how desperate his mind was for a few hours of oblivion.

 

He'd even gone home to get some rest, after practically getting forced out of the door by Tina - who'd taken one look at Gavin and actually shoved him towards the exit. Telling him to not come back until tomorrow, or else.

 

Whatever Gavin had done to deserve any of his ... two actual friends, it must have been fucking amazing.

 

With a sigh, he gave up on sleep for now and got out of bed, which meant he more or less rolled off it and picked himself back up with what little strength he had left.

 

Might as well order something to eat, maybe catch up on the news or some stupid TV shows. He grabbed his phone from the coffee table, scrolling through his messages while sitting down on his couch.

 

Two were from Tina. **You better be sleeping for real, asshole!** and **Lunch on me tmrw**.

 

He couldn't help but smile a little.

 

Nothing from Chris yet, which was driving Gavin insane. He needed to know if the suspect (or should he be saying witness?) was going to pull through.

 

A message from an unknown number caught his attention. Weird, he didn't give out his number to a lot of people. Maybe it was work-related?

 

It wasn't.

 

What he read was an invitation for a meeting on July 17, at a property outside of Detroit. He felt his blood run cold, heartbeat going so fast it hurt. His hands slipped, dropping the phone on the carpet. The message was still staring up at him, taunting him.

 

"See you there."

 

No way. Not after all this time, not now. Not after all the effort he'd put into getting out of that toxic cesspool of an environment he had spent his youth living in.

 

Gavin let himself fall backwards, his back hitting the couch with a thud. And then he just stared at the ceiling, heart racing, mind spiraling, down, always down the rabbit hole of things he'd rather not think about again, ever.

His scar was burning like fire.

 

He stayed like this, for what felt like an eternity, until the exhaustion of the past few weeks won, making him pass out cold.

 

 

\---

 

 

It was dark when he opened his eyes again, confused and disoriented. There was a muffled sound coming from the floor beneath him, a sound he recognized as his phone buzzing on the carpet.

 

Gavin groaned, reaching for the phone, still drunk on sleep.

 

"Reed," he mumbled, not checking caller ID beforehand. Stupid.

 

"Detective Reed, this is Connor from the DPD."

 

The awkward greeting made Gavin snort. He blamed it on how tired he still was.

 

"Well, duh, dipshit. You're the only Connor I know. What do you want? And where did you get my number?"

 

"Lieutenant Anderson gave it to me. I'm calling because there's been a development in the case."

 

Shit. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach. He already knew what it was, but he asked anyway to confirm his fears.

 

"She's dead, isn't she?"

 

A moment of silence, then Connor's voice again, soft and somewhat apologetic.

 

"Yes, Leslie Arden passed away 45 minutes ago. We were just informed by Officer Miller. I believe he texted you as well."

 

Gavin would have to check his messages after the call, but shit, fuck, this was bad, really bad.

 

"What's the cause of death?"

 

"They're suspecting natural causes due to the damage done by her drug abuse. But it could also be a side effect of the drug she'd consumed earlier," Connor said, but he didn't sound entirely convinced.

 

To be honest, Gavin wasn't either.

 

"We'll have to wait for the autopsy," he said. "Is there anything else?"

 

He heard some shuffling in the background, a dog barking and a door being shut.

 

"Yes, there is. There was another android homicide, same neighborhood."

 

Gavin stood up, stretching out his aching, stiff limbs.

 

"Text me the details and location, I'm on my way."

 

Another pause, a car engine was starting in the background, then there was the sound of Connor clearing his throat, which completely threw Gavin off. What the fuck was this guy doing? Did androids even need to do that?

 

"We could also come and get you, Lieutenant Anderson and myself, I mean," he said and Gavin's jaw dropped. "Driving while sleep deprived can be dangerous."

 

This had to be a joke. No, his whole life had become a joke in just one fucking day. What was Connor thinking, butting in like that, like he was friends with Gavin or something?

 

"Fuck off. I can take care of myself! Just text the address, so I can get going!"

 

"... Understood."

 

"Good."

 

That was more like it.

 

 

\---

 

 

Somehow, Detective Reed had already arrived when Connor brought Hank's car to a stop in front of the abandoned house the victim had been found in. Perhaps he lived closer to the scene than Hank did.

 

Connor spotted him talking to Officer Tina Chen in front of the building, arms crossed tightly. He seemed on edge, but that was not exactly surprising, given the day he'd just had.

 

Hank made his way over to them, even grumpier than usual, possibly due to having his sleep interrupted yet again, and Connor followed behind.

 

"Evening, ladies," Hank greeted, nodding politely at Officer Chen while simultaneously giving Detective Reed the cold shoulder. "What are we looking at here?"

 

"Evening, Lieutenant, Connor," Officer Chen said. "Dead android. Some wounds on his neck and arms, but nothing else. No blue blood either. And no humans present, dead or alive. Quite a bit more tame than the last two crime scenes, I hear."

 

"Any fingerprints? DNA? Hair?," Connor asked, adding the information to his internal case file.

 

"None so far."

 

Hank made a humming sound in his chest. "The DNA on the other crime scenes was from the human victims, right? No other fingerprints either. Think this might be the doing of an android?"

 

"I don't know," Connor said. "It might be the case that androids are involved in this, we can't disregard this possibility."

 

Somehow, this thought made him uncomfortable. He'd seen androids do terrible things, but never unprovoked.

Did becoming more human also mean taking on some of the depravity that seemed to prevalent in the human condition?

 

He shook his head. He didn't have time to dwell on that right now.

 

"I think it's also possible a group did this," Detective Reed spoke up, surprising Connor yet again with how eager he was to get work done, their usual differences aside. "Our witness said 'they' brought the dead android to her. So either multiple people or someone of unidentified gender. If it's a group, it might be all human, all android or both. Hard to say at the moment."

 

"That's plausible," Connor said. "We need more evidence regardless. Shall we head inside and take a look at the scene?"

 

Gavin didn't take the time to reply, he simply turned around and walked into the building, with Connor and Hank following close behind.

 

 

\---

 

 

The scene was very similar to the second instance they'd come across, except much cleaner, almost eerily so for an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere. A single story building this time, so no upstairs surprises, Gavin thought with a bit of gallows humor.

 

The attack was still eating at him, but he had other, more pressing things to worry about. The death of the witness for one.

 

On top of that, he couldn't forget about the invitation, no matter how hard he pushed to get it out of his mind. It stayed there, at the corners of his consciousness, persistently waiting for him to let his guard down.

 

Gavin crossed his arms a bit more tightly, watching Connor scan the body and surroundings.

 

"A male WR600 model," Connor said, touching the dead android's arm to inspect it more closely. "Minimal damage, only some cuts, most postmortem, but there is a bruise on his hand from blunt impact that shows signs of synthetic healing. Maybe he tried to defend himself."

 

"Anything else?," Hank asked, adding a memo on the tablet he was holding.

 

Connor nodded before standing up, looking around.

 

"There's some software damage. Internal components are fried, like he was overheating before he died. I don't know what caused it. I should take a closer look at the other victims again, to determine if they show similar damage. I might have missed that due to the more apparent physical damage."

 

As much as Gavin hated to admit it, having an android on scene was a time saver. It also didn't exactly help make him feel any better about his own lackluster performance to see Connor working so efficiently. God, he hated it.

 

To at least create the illusion of himself contributing anything at all, he took a few steps across the living room, peering into the kitchen.

 

Huh. This was odd. Where the living room had seemed pristine, the kitchen looked like someone might imagine the kitchen in an abandoned house to look like. Grimy, dirty, dust covered, with pieces of paper and empty boxes strewn across. It made the cleanliness of the living space seem even more out of place.

 

"Did anyone else notice how weirdly clean that room is or am I imagining things?"

 

Connor looked up, curious, before letting his eyes wander across the room. He seemed alarmed for a moment, before his expression turned neutral again.

 

"You are right. There are no marked areas of interest, other than the immediate crime scene. I should have noticed that."

 

"Good thing I'm here, then," Gavin said, shrugging.

 

It had been meant sarcastically, but Connor actually smiled at him, nodding.

 

"Yes, thank you for keeping an eye out. Please, tell me whenever you notice something that might be important."

 

This ... this was weird. Totally weird. Gavin wasn't sure what to think or feel or say. So he shrugged his shoulders again.

 

"I'm just doing my job, you know."

 

"If you two are done with whatever the fuck that just was, I'll go get a UV light," Hank interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Maybe whoever did it tried to erase some traces."

 

Might be, Gavin thought. Cleaning just one spot would be too suspicious, especially to a specialized android like Connor. Did they know Connor and Hank had taken up the case? They had been on the news before, so it was possible.

 

Anderson's hunch proved correct. As soon as he returned with the UV light, dimming down the lighting at the crime scene to see better, a sea of small droplets appeared on the clean linoleum floor, gleaming like a myriad of pale blue stars.

 

"Jeez. That's probably human blood, right, dipshit?"

 

Connor half nodded at that. "Most likely. I can't sample it, though."

 

"Let's leave it to forensics, then," Anderson said. "So we got a dead android, killed the same way as the other two, and probably a human involved, again like the other crime scenes. No drugs yet, but that might be due to the culprit - or culprits cleaning up their mess."

 

He paused, massaging the bridge of his nose, clearly unhappy with the situation at hand.

 

"No clear motive, no live witnesses, no prints or DNA. Gotta love yourself some fucking professional serial killing."

 

Yeah ... Gavin felt that desperation as well.


	8. Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Here I am, to keep the updates moving. I'm working on chapter 22 at the moment, no idea how many more there are gonna be for Part 1. I am close to the conclusion of this arc, if you will, plot wise. But the story has had kind of its own head lately.  
> I honestly didn't expect this to go so well; I think it's nice for a change. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

 

 

The night was wasting away, the darkest hour decaying into the dull gray right before dawn. Gavin just wanted to go to sleep, he really did.

 

For some reason, however, Gavin had ended up at the precinct with Connor and Hank, working through what little evidence they had. Which really wasn't anything to go on.

 

It was Hank who proposed a theory that seemed to fit, at least for now, suggesting that the human victims were connected to the drugs rather than the dead androids, especially since Leslie had said that the android had already been dead.

 

"It makes sense," Connor agreed. "They were all under the influence of this new, formerly unknown type of Red Ice, at least the victims we could identify. It is likely the human, whose wiped off blood we managed to uncover, was also drugged, even if we can't prove that yet."

 

Hank made a humming sound, brows furrowed.

 

"But why should someone creating a new drug pump it to some homeless addicts in the middle of nowhere?"

 

"I'm not sure," Connor said.

 

Maybe he wasn't. But Gavin had a pretty good idea what mindset might have been behind this whole situation.

 

Someone had been using the human victims. He'd seen the confusion and fear in Leslie's eyes, the dawning realization of something going wrong she'd been left in the dark about.

 

He knew exactly what that felt like.

 

His thoughts flashed back to long hours spent on late night messages, pouring his heart out to what he thought to be like minded strangers on the internet, allowing them glimpses at the core of what made him tick, what made him smile or suffer.

 

Fake, all of it just fake.

 

A hand reached out to him, touching his shoulder for the briefest of moments. Gavin realized only then that he was shaking.

 

"Detective Reed, are you alright?"

 

Connor's eyes were locked on his own, veiled in the oddly convincing worry he'd seen there before.

 

"I'm fine, asshole. I was just thinking."

 

"About what?"

 

Gavin almost couldn't believe the audacity of this android to pry into areas he wasn't supposed to see or even care about. Did this plastic idiot not have any filter?

 

"Thinking about what, Detective?" Connor asked again, seemingly not picking up on the fact that he was pushing it right now, drawing new anger from Gavin.

 

He swallowed, fighting down his aggression. He couldn't afford to fight with Connor, not if he wanted a chance to bring his investigation to its conclusion. For the sake of his career.

 

_Breathe, Gavin, breathe._

 

"The case, dipshit. What else?"

 

Connor looked at hin like he knew that wasn't all, but he didn't say anything, simply waiting for Gavin to continue. So he did.

 

"I think they might be testing the new drug. Figuring out how to optimize the formula before they invade the market."

 

"That's quite the theory, Reed," Hank said, crossing his arms while leaning back in his chair. "Got anything to back it up?"

 

Gavin didn't bother with Hank's dismissive tone. He knew exactly that the other man was just doing it to get a reaction out of him.

 

Instead, he just pointed to the case files on the holo-screen in front of them, highlighting the notes on self-harm evident in all the victims, including Leslie Arden, who had cut open her own hands with the knife and left bloody scratch marks on the walls in the bathroom.

 

He then pointed to the remarks on the evident aggression in Leslie's attack against himself and how that contrasted immensely with her personality as displayed in the interrogation room.

 

"I think the drug is an advanced type of stimulant, increasing aggressive potential in users. We already know Red Ice is doing something similar, what with all the escalating domestic violence under the influence."

 

"And the aggressions against androids," Connor added. "There is a reason so many androids went deviant in households with Red Ice users, prior to the Android Revolution."

 

Hank nodded slightly, but it was apparent that he was still hesitant to approve of this theory.

 

"Why bother, though? The market is still swamped with Red Ice addicts, some desperate for a stronger hit, consequences or dangers be damned. They could've made profit already."

 

"I doubt they want to kill off their own customers in spades. That's why they are testing it first, on people who would probably not be able to afford the new drug anyway," Connor explained.

 

"Yeah," Gavin said, some of the bitterness he felt leaking into his voice. "People who wouldn't be missed. Probably promised them a good hit without warning them of the risks."

 

Hank shook his head in disgust. "Whoever is behind this is a bastard, that's for sure."

 

"We still don't know what the android victims have to do with anything," Connor said. "We'll have to look for a connection."

 

"You do that," Gavin said, standing up from his chair and stretching his limbs. "I'm gonna go talk to one of my contacts, see if he's got some info for me."

 

If a new drug was underway, he knew the perfect guy to keep an eye out for it.

 

Connor raised his eyebrows, curious. "One of your contacts?"

 

"A drug dealer," Gavin clarified, already pulling on his leather jacket.

 

"You wanna hit up a dealer at, what, four in the fucking morning, alone?" Hank asked, incredulous. "You know I can't stand you, kid, but with how the streets have been recently, you're gonna end up shot to death in a back alley. We're going with you."

 

"Yeah, no. No offense, but I don't think my contact will even talk to me if I spring two new faces at him. He's a bit paranoid."

 

"Then I'll go with you while Hank stays here," Connor said quickly. "I'm fast. I can remain hidden, but intervene when necessary."

 

Gavin didn't like that idea very much. He was about to tell Connor to fuck off, when Hank stood up with a sigh and a look like thunder. He actually proceeded to shove both Connor and Gavin towards the exit, using his height and the moment of surprise to catch Gavin off guard.

 

"Yeah. Yeah, that's a ... very good idea, Connor. You guys better get going, cause I'm gonna go grab a bite to eat while you are gone. You like cheeseburgers, right, Reed?"

 

Gavin was too confused to say anything, instead just nodding like an idiot.

 

"Perfect," Hank stated, completely ignoring Connor, who was trying to say something about cholesterol levels or some bullshit.

 

"See you later."

 

What. What the fuck just happened?

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

"I can't believe I actually let you come with me."

 

Connor was equally surprised, but at the same time glad to be here. The more time he spent with Detective Reed, the more fascinated he became with his personality and skill.

 

Granted, the man was still abrasive, yet there was a lot more to it than that. Something that reminded Connor of his rough beginning with Hank, only different, somehow. It was hard to explain.

 

Gavin was constantly on edge, stress levels never at a stage that could be thought of as normal. Even now, during the rather uneventful car ride, he was gripping the steering wheel just a bit too tightly, shifting gears slightly too abruptly. Driving just a tad too fast.

 

As if to contrast against that roughness it his behavior, it was almost eerily silent in the car, the only sound being the running engine and Detective Reed's shallow breaths. No radio. No music.

 

"Do you like retro cars?" Connor asked, for some reason desperate for a conversation.

 

Weird, usually silence didn't bother him.

 

Detective Reed shot him a glance before returning his eyes to the road.

 

"Not particularly," he said, hesitating. "I like driving. And I mean doing it myself, with my foot on the gas and my hands dictating where I'm going. Modern cars are too much tech and too little of myself, for my taste."

 

Connor nodded in understanding.

 

"Hank told me the same thing once. He said he likes feeling in control of at least something in his life."

 

That seemed to have struck a nerve, making Gavin tense up, eyes slightly wider than before. Somehow, despite all the questions surfacing in his mind, Connor didn't dare say anything to address this sudden change in mood. He wasn't sure why.

 

Silence stretched out between them again, growing, until it felt like an impenetrable wall.

 

Connor was strangely relieved when the car came to a stop next to a dark alley, and Gavin turned the key to shut the engine off.

 

"You can wait at the corner, I'll be right back."

 

"Are you sure I shouldn't accompany you? This contact of yours could be dangerous."

 

For whatever reason, this made Gavin laugh, short, but genuinely amused, if a bit teasing, like a part of him was making fun of Connor. Connor found he didn't mind.

 

"Nah. I'm good. Seriously. This guy is a big old softie. Not saying he doesn't know how to defend himself, but he's not a threat until you make him one."

 

"He's still a criminal," Connor couldn't help but object.

 

Detective Reed shook his head, still amused.

 

"Some kind of criminal he is. Sells mostly shit that would be legal if he let it get tested and taxed. He sells cheaper than the stores, and he doesn't cut his stuff ... much."

 

"Live and let live," Connor remarked, "right?"

 

Gavin leveled him with a strange look. "Surprised to hear something like that out of your mouth, plastic. Aren't you the one to always follow the rules as much as possible?"

 

A smile crept unto Connor's face. "Rules are made to be bent, so long as nobody is unnecessarily harmed. It was one of the first lessons I learned from Hank."

 

Connor could see Detective Reed trying and failing to hide a grin.

 

"Shit, I did not expect that."

 

He got out of the car and Connor followed suit, looking around carefully for the first time.

 

This seemed to be a sort of commercial area, filled with small businesses, most obviously abandoned, but not all of them. There were signs that pointed to some shops, even if run down, still being active. Just not at 4:33 a.m.

 

A quick check confirmed Connor's suspicions that this neighborhood was right next to the one where the crime scenes had been. Smart decision to use an informant close to an area of interest to gather intel.

 

"Wait right here, don't move, I'm gonna head inside and meet my contact."

 

Connor didn't ask again to go with Gavin, he'd only get shot down anyway. He would have to wait for Detective Reed to leave and then stealthily get closer, so he could react faster to possibly dangerous scenarios, while still maintaining the illusion that he had listened to him.

 

And to be completely honest, he was also incredibly curious about what kind of person this contact was.

 

He watched as Gavin proceeded to knock twice on the door of an Asian specialty store, waiting, and knocking again four times. The door was opened from inside a few moments later and Gavin slipped inside.

 

For good measure, Connor let another thirty seconds go by, ones that felt considerably longer than his automatic countdown suggested, before moving closer to the door, moving through the darkness.

 

There were barely any streetlights around, making things just beyond the scarce light sources next to impossible to see. Regretfully, Cyberlife had not equipped Connor with night vision technology.

 

He used the lack of light to his advantage now, creeping closer, determined to not disturb Detective Reed and possibly screw up this opportunity to secure some intel.

 

His steps were echoing in the darkness, even with how silent he tried to be, making him cringe a bit. Detective Reed hadn't been so loud when walking down this path, had he?

 

He realized too late that there was another echo, layered over the sound of his own steps. A second pair of footsteps closing in.

 

Something hit him in the back of the neck, electricity streaming through his body, making him gasp.

 

Connor's knees buckled, his legs no longer able to carry him upright. Error messages flickered across his vision, obscuring the dark of the night with flashes of red.

 

"Fucking android," somebody hissed next to his ear, before sending another bolt of electricity down his spine.

 

This time, Connor was prepared, his system working to shield itself. His vision cleared for a moment, until a kick caught him in the face, damaging his cheek.

 

Connor rolled onto his side, pulling his head between his shoulders and covering his neck with his hands.

 

He opened his mouth to call for help, but no sound came out.

 

**Warning: Voice box non-responsive.**

 

Shit.


	9. Fuck up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well ... I wanted to upload on Saturday. But today Voltron is coming out AND I CAN'T WATCH because I promised a friend to watch it with her - and she's gone all day long. And because I'm a good friend, I'll torture myself waiting, resisting temptation. 
> 
> So I decided to give you the new chapter instead to distract myself. Have fun reading!

 

 

The inside of the shop was as cluttered as Gavin remembered it being.

 

It smelled of dried food, salted fish and tealeaves in here. And, for those with a trained nose, weed.

 

Loads of spices covered the shelves, odd food-items, instant noodles. Knick-knacks were interspersed with them, following no particular order; touristy crap Gavin doubted anyone would ever buy in this neighborhood instead of the polished inner city.

 

If at all, that was. Too tacky for his taste.

 

There was also a wall with stickers and post cards for sale, left-leaning political statements, humor, puns, pro-android merch. Huh, interesting.

 

"Gavin, what the fuck are you doing here so early?" Steven asked, sitting down in an ornate little chair, the type that looked like breathing the wrong way could snap it in half.

 

There was another such chair straight across from him, which Gavin ignored. He preferred to keep his dignity intact and not end up on his ass, on top of a pile of fragile wood, thank you very much.

 

"I need some intel," Gavin said, leaning against the only empty patch of wall he could find.

 

"You need to learn to call ahead, I could have been asleep."

 

Gavin let out a short laugh, shaking his head slightly.

 

"Oh please, kid. Your sleep-cycle is even more fucked up than my own. I have yet to see the day you're not here when I come over."

 

In response, Steven just giggled.

 

It made him sound awfully young. Well, he was, actually; about twenty, if Gavin remembered correctly. Young and stupid, only not really.

 

Gavin sighed, looking the kid over. He seemed out of place here, in his black hoodie, nerd-glasses and fucking jean-shorts. More like a weird MIT student than an independent dealer with an Asian grocery store on the side.

 

"Tell me, have you heard any news about a new drug? Or is there something going on in the Red Ice circles?"

 

"Straight to business," Steven remarked, failing to hide a scowl at the mention of Red Ice. "You recall I don't mess with that stuff anymore, right?"

 

Vividly, actually, which made Gavin feel a little bit bad for involving him in this. But he trusted Steven and he needed all the info he could get.

 

"I know. But I also know you keep tabs on the recent news anyway, or am I wrong?"

 

Steven avoided looking at Gavin, fiddling with his thumbs nervously.

 

"You're well informed, as usual. What do you need me for, then?"

 

"Stop joking around, this is important. You know way too much for your own good, when it comes to this business. I need all the intel you can give me."

 

The kid cocked his head to the side, clearly picking up on the urgency in Gavin's voice.

 

"Why? What's going on?"

 

Pushing away from the wall, Gavin automatically started to pace, before he caught himself doing it, forcing his legs to stop. He was giving too much of himself away, he needed to get a grip.

 

"There could be a new drug hitting the market soon, if it hasn't already. A new type of Red Ice. I wish I could tell you more, but I can't. There are lives at stake," Gavin said. "Human and android lives."

 

Steven perked up at that, intrigued.

 

"What's in it for me?"

 

"How about I don't bust your little business?" Gavin asked, brows furrowed, before he shrugged.

 

He knew that Steven knew he couldn't just get rid of him. He was too important and too good at getting the info Gavin needed.

 

"How about the usual rate? Plus protection if something goes wrong."

 

Steven pretended to think about it for a moment, but Gavin could already see by the way his shoulders relaxed that he would take the deal.

 

"I'm in. I haven't heard anything yet, but I'll let you know as soon as I do. If you keep me informed about details to look out for, that is."

 

They were about to shake hands on it, when a mechanical screeching sound startled both of them, so loud and high pitched that it cut into Gavin's ears like knives.

 

Steven was on his feet in a second, pressing against the nearest wall, while Gavin drew his gun, creeping towards the door.

 

There was movement outside the window, but his vision was obscured by the shelves. Where the fuck was Connor?

 

A thought crossed Gavin's mind. What if Connor got himself into trouble? What if that screeching had been the sound of him being damaged?

 

Fuck.

 

Slowly, careful to keep himself hidden for as long as possible, Gavin made his way to the door, before yanking it open, gun raised.

 

"Freeze, motherfucker! Detroit Police!"

 

Gavin almost didn't believe his eyes at what he saw. Connor was on the floor, curled up and unresponsive, a man towering above him, delivering forceful kicks to the android's back, an object in his hand. A weapon? Was it a gun?

 

He couldn't afford to hesitate, not with Connor, himself and possibly Steven in danger.

 

In the fracture of a moment, he lined up the shot with the man's shoulder, let out a steady breath and pulled the trigger.

 

The shot echoed through the empty streets, followed by a scream. The man dropped the object, clutching his shoulder.

 

This was his chance.

 

"On your knees!" Gavin ordered, kicking whatever the man had dropped away. "Let me see your hands, or the next shot is your head."

 

The man complied, allowing himself to get cuffed, all while alternating between cursing and whimpering in pain.

 

Gavin felt almost disappointed with how little resistance the guy was putting up.

 

He was angry, seething really, and he wasn't exactly sure why. He calmed down a bit when he saw Steven tending to Connor, who was sitting upright again, a bit dazed, but fine.

 

"I need an ambulance," the man whined, a steady stream of blood flowing down his arm.

 

"You have the right to remain silent. So please, shut up. I just grazed you, you'll live. I'll call the ambulance - after I check up on my colleague you just assaulted."

 

The man groaned.

 

"Shit, that piece of plastic is an officer?"

 

For some reason, that made Gavin laugh.

 

"I'm surprised by that fact every single day. And he'll let you know, he's, what was it, _a full fledged detective and a sentient being with rights_. So yeah, you fucked up."

 

He moved over to Connor, who immediately took notice of Gavin, a sheepish look on his face, like he wanted to apologize for not waiting by the car after all. And, yeah, Gavin could have confronted him about it right there, but he ... just didn't.

 

His eyes moved over Connor's silly expression to a wound on his cheek, a small patch of destroyed skin, revealing white plastic underneath.

 

Gavin wondered if something like that really didn't hurt at all.

 

"Hey, you still functional or whatever?"

 

Connor nodded.

 

"Yes, and thank you for your fast reaction," he said.

 

He sounded strangely hollow and distant, like a bad loudspeaker.

 

"What's with the weird voice? Did you get damaged or something? Is that what that shriek was?"

 

"My voice box was unresponsive, due to high electrical currents damaging my wiring. I have rewired parts of it, but I will need to repair it in a more efficient way later. The sound you heard was a feedback I created to alert you to my predicament. I had no other way of calling for help."

 

"Feedback? That's smart. Certainly got the trick done."

 

Wait, high electrical currents? Gavin looked over to the object the assailant had dropped. Was that some kind of taser?

 

"Be careful with that, Detective," Connor said. "If it's strong enough to damage me, it's probably lethal to humans."

 

Yeah, no. He was not touching that, knowing his luck recently.

 

"Can you get up?"

 

Connor nodded getting to his feet, with Steven actually helping him stand. The kid seemed more than a little fascinated, staring at Connor like a star-struck teenager. Fucking weirdos, both of them.

 

"Alright then," Gavin said, looking over at the assailant, who was still whining. "Let's get this asshole packed up and head back to the precinct."

 

 

\---

 

 

Hank almost dropped the bags of food he was holding when he came into the station to the sight of Connor's flexible throat plate opened up to reveal the wiring underneath.

 

Connor was checking the cables in front of a hand held mirror he had borrowed from a female officer.

 

"Do I even want to know what the hell you did while I was gone?"

 

Connor glanced at Hank from the corner of his eye, trying to smile, while closing his throat again. The wiring appeared to be back to normal now.

 

"We went to speak to the contact. I was asked to remain outside and a human attacked me from behind, once I was alone. Detective Reed wounded the assailant and arrested him before I could get damaged significantly. So everything is fine."

 

Hank didn't seem to agree with that assertion, his heartbeat spiking dramatically.

 

"Everything is fine, my ass! You just got attacked and hurt! Can't I let you go anywhere without you getting into trouble? Why were you even attacked in the first place?"

 

In an attempt to calm Hank down, Connor got up, raising his hands slightly.

 

"We don't know the reasons yet, possibly just anti android violence. But I'm fine, see? Just a scratch, as you humans would say."

 

His tactic seemed to work, at least until Detective Reed returned from the break room, holding a cup of coffee.

 

"Oh, you're back. Got the food?"

 

Connor could see a vein at Hank's neck starting to pulse, not a good sign.

 

"Don't gimme that nonchalant crap. I leave Connor with you for less than an hour and he gets attacked?"

 

Gavin scoffed at that. "Come on, he's fine. Last I checked, he gets hurt more often than not when in the field with you."

 

Those words made Hank visibly deflate. His shoulders slumped and he let himself fall into the next best chair, exhausted.

 

"I'm too old to deal with this crap. And I need a drink."

 

"I could get you a coffee," Connor suggested, but Hank shook his head, defeated.

 

"Let's just eat, compare notes and head home. I need to sleep for 24 hours straight."

 

 

\---

 

 

The ride home was silent, for the most part, except for some metal in the background, turned down so much it was more of a white noise than actual music.

 

They'd wrapped up rather quickly after Gavin and Hank had wolfed down their burgers, much to the dismay of Connor, who'd done his best to not remark on all the ways this was an unhealthy meal, from sodium levels to the abysmal health rating of the fast food joint – not the Chicken Feed, apparently, probably due to the opening hours, but some back alley food vendor.

 

It's not like they would have listened to him anyway.

 

There was something on Connors mind now, however, circling through his processors; something he needed to address.

 

"I feel like my relationship with Detective Reed is changing," he finally said, about a ten minute ride away from home still.

 

Hank looked over at him, eyebrows raised.

 

"You think? He still seems like an asshole to me."

 

Connor contemplated that for a moment, comparing the Detective from his database to the one he'd seen recently.

 

"Maybe," he said. "He's still rude and doesn't seem to care what I think – or anyone else for that matter. So he probably is an asshole, to put it in your words."

 

Hank snorted. "Told ya."

 

"However," Connor continued, undeterred by Hank's dismissive answer, "he has been less aggressive towards me. Significantly so. And he seems to acknowledge me as his colleague now."

 

There was a brief pause before Hank said something.

 

"Remember what I told you about him using people? The warning still stands. I don't trust him."

 

Connor nodded slightly.

 

"I know. And I think he is hiding something, too. His car was spotless, as is his workstation. No personal items, nothing. He doesn't interact much with his coworkers. In addition to that, he overreacts in certain situations or gets lost in thought."

 

"You think he's got some skeletons in his closet?" Hank asked. "Not that I'd be surprised. But don't we all have those, kind of?"

 

Connor didn't say anything to that, sifting through memories again. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something.

 

 

\---

 

 

Connor was looking at him, smiling. Talking to him, still smiling. Always smiling.

 

Asking him how he'd been. Asking for his opinion on a case. Asking if he was alright. Always asking.

 

He was looking beneath the surface, searching for all the things Gavin had buried.

 

He had no business trying to uncover the truth, to strip away the walls. He wasn't even a person. He was too artificial, too unapproachable, too perfect.

 

Connor's smile slipped from his lips, turning into an expression of sadness.

 

He was on the ground a moment later, curled in on himself. There was a wound on his cheek. A knife stuck through his hand.

 

"Not so perfect now, right?" Connor asked, turning to face him, a hand touching Gavin's temple, moving down, lifting his chin to look into his soul.

 

Was he on the ground as well? When did he lie down?

 

He stopped questioning it as Connor's fingers lightly brushed against his lips, making him shiver.

 

"I won't tell anyone," Connor said, with eyes like a doll – shiny and lifeless.

 

Gavin was confused. He suddenly felt cold, exposed.

 

"Tell anyone what?"

 

The smile was back again, soft and inviting. There was something underneath, something dark.

 

"What a fuck up you are."

 

 

Gavin woke up with a start, his head spinning, heart pounding. He felt sick. Sick enough to puke. He wanted to curl up in a hole and die.

 

His phone buzzed on his nightstand and he reached for it, reluctantly. It was just past noon.

 

One unread message. Unknown number.

 

Dread filled Gavin, making it hard to breathe.

 

 

**Reminder for: July 17.**

 

**Come see me.**

 

 

Nausea hit Gavin like a punch to the gut.

 

He sprang up, stumbling towards the bathroom, blinded by colorful spots dancing in his vision. He barely made it in time, emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

 

And then he just sat there, on the cold tiles.

 

Heaving.

 

Waiting.

 

For what, he didn't know.


	10. Connections

 

 

"He's not picking up," Connor said, disconnecting his call function and exchanging a glance with Hank across their workstation.

 

It was early afternoon already and Detective Reed hadn't returned to the precinct yet, even though he'd made it clear he wanted to be the one to interrogate Connor's assailant.

 

Even Hank seemed a bit worried for a moment, but then he just shook his head.

 

"Shit, have you seen him recently? Rhetorical question, Connor, don't answer that. He looked ready to keel over at any moment. Probably overslept, happens to the best."

 

Maybe. Connor wasn't convinced, but if it was true, he supposed it was a good thing. Detective Reed had really been pushing himself to his limits, or more likely over them.

Why he would act that way, with so little regard for his health, was something Connor didn't understand – yet. He was working on that.

 

"Let's go take care of this interrogation without him, see if there's any connection to our case. I doubt it, but it doesn't hurt to try."

 

Connor wasn't entirely comfortable to proceed without Detecitve Reed, but there was nothing he could do about that now. So he just followed Hank to the interrogation room, entering behind him.

 

The assailant made a disgusted face as soon as he spotted Connor, pure anger apparent on his features.

 

"Shit, not this thing again. I was shot because of you!"

 

Connor cocked his head to the side, moving closer.

 

"You were shot because you physically assaulted me, a member of Detroit's police force. Moreover, you made use of a dangerous, potentially deadly weapon. Any action taken against you was in self defense."

 

The man practically sneered at that, pointedly looking at Hank instead of Connor.

 

"You really gonna allow that thing to lead the interrogation? Aren't you supposed to control it?"

 

Bad move, Connor noted with a fair bit of amusement.

 

In an outward display of patience, Hank stopped right next to the assailant, Carson Lonville, 47, Connor's facial recognition software supplied.

Hank was smiling, keeping his appearance eerily calm as he lowered his head to Lonville's level, his hand coming to a rest on the bandaged part of his shoulder, as if by accident. It wasn't, of course. Every move was calculated.

 

Applying just enough pressure to the wound to make it uncomfortable, but not enough to earnestly hurt or cause damage, Hank spoke up.

 

"Oh, I think you've got it wrong here. You see, the kid over there? He might be an android, but he's my partner. He's the only one able to handle me in a long ass time. If anything, _he's_ here to keep _me_ in check."

 

With that, Hank pulled back, sitting down in the chair across Lonville.

 

"He's all yours, kid."

 

That was all the invitation Connor needed. He walked over and sat down on the edge of the table, allowing himself to tower over the man chained to it. It was an easy method to assert dominance before starting the investigation.

 

The move did its trick, making Lonville sink deeper into his seat, doing his best to avoid Connor's eyes. He was quick to give into the pressure Connor was silently building up.

 

"Six counts of property damage, four of which were against androids in the pre android rights era. Two counts of assault against humans, one against an android just last month. Oh, and I see multiple counts of charges related to drugs. You've been busy."

 

Lonville looked up at Connor and found himself unable to tear his gaze away again. The contempt in his eyes did little to veil his fear. His heartbeat gave him away as well.

 

Someone susceptible to psychological pressure, it seemed. Connor adjusted his strategy accordingly.

 

"Yes, I can tell all of that just by looking at you. Going through every single record of you available, in the time it takes me to blink.”

 

Connor watched with satisfaction as Lonville swallowed, hard, throat probably dry as sand right now. He was intimidated, scared. This was going well.

 

“And I can tell something else, you know? You are a coward. You attacked me from behind with a weapon that would have knocked a less advanced model out cold on the first strike."

 

A flicker in his eyes at the words 'less advanced', a spike in his stress level. Connor not being a normal android came as a surprise, it seemed. Interesting.

 

"I don't get why you would do it. You're out on the streets, in the dark, just to randomly attack androids? And while you are on probation, no less."

 

Lonville let out a short, bitter laugh at that.

 

"It's not like you lot don't deserve it."

 

"And how is that?" Connor asked, trying to take in every hint in the suspect's expression he could find.

 

He half expected Lonville to squirm a bit more, to try and hide his thoughts and motives. He didn't, however. It was almost disappointing.

 

"First, you crash our economy by screwing over workers, taking their jobs, ruining families and whole neighborhoods. And then you revolt against your masters and you screw humanity over again! Bankrupting whole businesses! You lot make me sick. You shouldn't even exist."

 

Connor didn't let the hatred phase him.

 

He'd had worse things being hurled at him. Insults, threats, the occasional physical attacks thrown into the mix. He'd seen murdered and assaulted androids, more than enough of them.

 

And he'd seen people like Carson Lonville over and over again in this exact chair, hitting this exact point in their conversation.

 

Normally, it would have sufficed to draw a confession out of him, get him to admit what he had done.

 

That wasn't what Connor was after right now. He had Gavin as a witness and the taser with the assailant's fingerprints. Enough to convict him in court.

 

Right now, he wanted to know if there was a connection to their case, as slim as the possibility seemed. Something didn't sit right with him about the whole affair.

 

The thought of someone equipped with a weapon to strike down regular androids in one blow, just going out to assault them for fun, didn't make sense to him.

 

Then again, most crimes didn't, yet here he was, doing police work involving hate and warped ideologies or straight up insanity.

 

Connor decided to go all in, with the element of surprise on his side.

 

"Tell me, Carson. Have you heard of a new type of Red Ice?"

 

A confused look was the answer.

 

"No? What's that got to do with anything?"

 

Normal heart rate. Not significant change in perspiration. So that wasn't it.

 

Change in approach.

 

"When you attacked me, you didn't just do it to get back at androids, now did you?"

 

There it was. The spike in heart rate he'd been looking for.

 

"It wasn't the first time, right? You, going out with that taser, rendering oblivious androids unconscious."

 

He was sweating now, his stress level skyrocketing. Connor was unto something.

 

“You're taking them. You're kidnapping androids and taking them with you.”

 

Lonville's heart was beating so fast now, Connor wouldn't even have needed his scanners to pick up on it. He could see the veins on his neck pulsing. His forehead was covered in cold, glistening sweat.

 

"But why?” Connor continued his line of questioning. “Why take them? Why kill them? Do you enjoy murdering them so much?"

 

Lonville scoffed, his heart rate still incredibly high, but evening out.

 

"I'm not doing anything with anybody."

 

Surprisingly, that didn't seem to be a lie.

 

How could that be? It would have made sense for Lonville to be connected to the case. Anti android sentiments. Prone to violence. Kidnapping androids. Unless ... Unless he wasn't the one doing the killing.

 

"Did someone ask you to do it? To go out and collect androids?"

 

There it was again. The panic. The pounding heart, shifting eyes, fidgeting hands.

 

"No!"

 

Connor leaned closer a little, a predatory smile tugging at his lips.

 

"You know what, Carson? I think you're lying."

 

For a moment, neither of them moved or said anything, their gazes locked unto each other. Then, Lonville pulled back, breaking the intensity of the moment by letting out a breath and tearing his eyes away. He kept them cast downwards as he spoke up, voice shaky.

 

"I don't give a fuck what you think. I want a lawyer."

 

 

\---

 

 

"I don't like this," Connor said, pacing in front of their workstation.

 

"Me neither," Hank replied, playing with the edges of his empty coffee mug. "We'll have to try questioning Lonville again another time, even with one of those dishonest blood suckers there. You did well, son. You can be proud of yourself."

 

While Connor did appreciate the sentiment, he couldn't shake the bad feeling that had taken hold of him since the interrogation. Everything seemed so convenient. A little too convenient.

 

"I don't know, Hank," he said carefully. "Doesn't it seem strange that someone most likely involved in our case would just show up at a random location and try to neutralize me? All by chance?"

 

Hank paused at that, putting his mug down and leaning back in his chair.

 

"Sometimes luck is on your side, but yeah, I get what you mean. What's your instinct telling you?"

 

"My instinct?" Connor asked, a bit taken aback.

 

"Your gut feeling. Your initial reaction. Just, your _instinct_ , you know. It's hard to explain. All cops have it, at least the good ones."

 

The concept of trusting something as fleeting and fallible as feelings was still alien to Connor, but even his more rational thoughts were leaning towards distrust of the situation at hand. Maybe he should trust himself on this and keep his eyes and ears open for new details.

 

"Maybe I should contact New Jericho and advise them on being more cautious than usual," he said after a while. "Lonville was lying about not being asked to kidnap androids. We are not 100% certain about those androids being our victims yet, but I am fairly certain we can confirm that somehow. And we can't be sure there aren't other like Lonville out there."

 

Hank sighed before standing up, patting Connor on the shoulder.

 

"Do what you have to do. But make sure to not disclose any important information about the case. Remember, we don't know if androids are involved in this. We can be glad the press hasn't picked up on this yet. Those vultures tend to ruin everything."

 

Connor simply nodded, his mind wandering off again, into slightly different territory.

 

"What is it, son?" Hank asked, voice soft and eyes sharp, taking in the subtle changes in his expression and posture, the flickering of his LED.

 

Sometimes, Connor felt it was impossible to hide anything from him. It wasn't a bad feeling; vulnerable, but safe at the same time. Like he was being guarded.

 

"I am worried about Detective Reed."

 

Hank rolled his eyes, but thankfully, he didn't interrupt.

 

"It's just not like him to not show up or answer his phone, especially after requesting to lead the interrogation."

 

"You're right," Hank admitted, rubbing the back of his head, lost in thought. "I haven't seen him lose a day of work, since he started here, unless he was bad enough to be hospitalized after getting wounded or something. Maybe we should tell Fowler to send someone over."

 

"Or," Connor said, slowly, testing the waters, "I could go and check up on him?"

 

"You?"

 

Hank's expression looked almost pained.

 

"You honestly think that's a good idea, kid? If you really think you have to go, I could at least come with you."

 

To be honest, Connor didn't know whether or not his idea was advisable at all. He only knew that he wanted to do it. Alone.

And apparently, Hank could see all that, the whole thought process, his confusion and his determination, on his face, because he just sighed again.

 

"I'll give you his address. Do you want to take the car?"

 

Connor couldn't express how grateful he was, so he just smiled a lopsided smile at Hank, shaking his head.

 

"No, I'll take a cab. Thank you."

 

 

\---

 

 

The cab ride was weirdly uncomfortable, even though Connor was alone. He didn't know what to think or feel. He couldn't even name half the feelings his main processors registered, not to mention the ones that were so subtle, he had to make a conscious effort to take notice.

 

He almost wished Hank was here, but then again, he didn't. It was contradictory and that was driving Connor mad.

 

So he decided to do something productive and inform Markus of the recent situation. If telling him helped protect one single android, it was worth it.

 

He activated his call function, establishing a connection, which took a while, due to fluctuating signal strength and distance.

 

Markus picked up on the fourth ring, his voice flooding into Connor's head, familiar and soothing, full of warmth. It made him smile involuntarily for a second.

 

"Connor! What a pleasant surprise! Have you been doing well?"

 

"Hello, Markus. I'm terribly sorry to cut to the chase. This isn't a social call."

 

Connor could hear Markus sigh for a brief moment, his tone of voice turning serious and carrying more weight to it as he spoke up again - something North had dubbed Markus' leader voice.

 

Connor was starting to understand what she had meant.

 

"I feared it was something like that. What happened? Tell me everything you can."

 

"There have been multiple android homicides in the outskirt areas of Detroit. All older models of deviant androids that have not been identified yet. We've just caught someone today, who is connected to android kidnappings and who might also be linked to the homicide case. I was attacked with a taser by the suspect."

 

"Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you?"

 

"No, I'm fine. Minor damage I could repair easily," Connor said quickly, not wanting for Markus to worry about him. "But I am worried a similar attack might be enough to render a less advanced model unconscious. Please, would you put out a warning to the androids of New Jericho? Just keep a low profile in doing so, we can't confirm that there are no androids involved in the crime."

 

"Of course, consider it done. Is there anything else we could do to prepare ourselves? Or to aid your investigation?"

 

"No," Connor said, just as thought struck him. "Or yes, actually. Could you send me a list of older android models registered with you that have unexpectedly gone missing or unresponsive recently? In the last two to three months should be enough. I want to double check if our victims are on that list. And I am also worried there might be more victims we don't know about as of yet."

 

"I'll ask Simon and Josh to prepare those details and forward them to you. If those victims are members of New Jericho, maybe we'll bring some closure to those they left behind."

 

"That's all I need for now. Thank you."

 

Connor was about to hang up when Markus spoke up one more time.

 

"Before you go, please, be aware that we at New Jericho, no, I personally will do anything I can to help you if you ever need it. Don't be afraid to ask."

 

A moment of stunned silence passed. There was a strange sensation in Connor's chest. It felt tight, but also surprisingly warm. He didn't know what to make of it.

 

"Thank you, Markus," he said. "I mean it."


	11. Walls crumbling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! This is a more ... intense chapter and ... I'll just leave that here and ... yeah ... Bye!

 

 

The apartment complex Detective Reed was living in was at the center of a neighborhood that seemed largely abandoned. There were very few cars and even fewer pedestrians out, despite it being a rather nice afternoon.

 

Multiple gray, uniform buildings were neatly lined up next to one another, high rising squares placed within a web of narrow streets.

 

Connor walked up to the one that matched the address Hank had given him. It looked exactly like every other building around, slightly run down and anonymous. There weren't even names on the doorbell panel, just apartment numbers.

 

So that's what the 33 written next to the helpful headline 'asshole lives here' was.

 

He pressed the doorbell, letting it ring for a moment, before he stepped towards the intercom system mounted on the wall.

 

Nothing happened.

 

Connor realized only then that the intercom was inactive and the entrance door was not closed all the way. Detective Reed didn't answer either.

 

Debating himself on the costs and merits of just showing up on the man's doorstep unannounced, and potentially ruining the progress he had made in their relationship, versus the worry Connor felt due to the lack of response, he finally shrugged and slipped inside.

 

The apartment was easy enough to find, the last door to the left on the third floor, as well as the only door on the entire floor with a neutrally colored 'Welcome' mat in front of it for guests to wipe their feet on.

 

Something about that struck Connor as funny; he had more expected a greeting along the lines of 'Fuck off', rather than this.

 

Taking a breath to cool his system and relieve some of the tension he could feel building up in his artificial muscles, he stepped towards the door, noticing that up here, there was no doorbell, only a light switch on the wall next to the door.

 

Knocking it was, then.

 

He knocked once, twice ... maybe fifteen times in rapid succession had been a bit obnoxious, but it seemed to have worked to get the trick done, because now he could hear footsteps approaching inside.

 

The door flew open, almost crashing against the wall due to the force, revealing a rather disheveled looking Detective Reed wearing a simple black shirt, slightly too big for him, and shorts.

 

"Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want?" Detective Reed snapped, squinting his eyes as he looked up, freezing as soon as he recognized Connor.

 

His eyes were slightly red, bloodshot. Was it the lighting or did he seem awfully pale? No, not the lighting. He looked awful, angry, unsettled. Possibly even scared. Of what, Connor couldn't say.

 

"Hello, Detective Reed," Connor greeted him, trying to be as polite as possible as to not irritate him further. "I'm terribly sorry to disturb you, but you didn't come to work and you didn't answer your phone."

 

Gavin had a look on his face, one Hank might have described as a 'deer in headlights' look, like he hadn't been aware he'd spent an entire day at home, unannounced, despite asking to lead an interrogation. But he shifted over to his nonchalant persona rather quickly, hiding behind a mask.

 

"Yeah, maybe I didn't want to deal with you. Or anyone. Why are you even here?"

 

There was something in his voice as he said this, as much as he tried to come off as harsh and dismissive. Something that made him seem ... lost.

 

It was a feeling Connor could very much relate to, even if he didn't understand what was going through Gavin's head right now.

 

"It's about the case," Connor said, keeping it professional, not knowing how to breach the topic of emotions, especially with someone like Detective Reed. Or if he even should attempt to do so. "May I come in to discuss it?"

 

"I ...," Detective Reed started to say, sounding unsure. "Yeah, sure."

 

He stepped aside, allowing Connor to enter, keeping his eyes downcast the entire time.

 

Neither of them said anything at first and Detective Reed made no move away from the door, even after closing it, so they remained inside the hallway rather awkwardly.

 

It gave Connor the time to look around for a moment at ... mostly nothing.

 

A shoe rack with one pair of running shoes, one pair of black business shoes and three differently colored, but otherwise identical pairs of sneakers.

 

A few coat hangers, all empty except for Detective Reed's leather jacket.

 

A hook for the keys next to the door.

 

There was no carpet on the clean, white tiles. No pictures or trinkets on the walls, no mirror. Virtually no furniture.

 

"You done profiling me?" Detective Reed asked, crossing his arms defensively. "I thought you came here because of the case."

 

Connor felt a pang of quilt at his words. Privacy was a concept humans valued greatly, and here he was, disregarding it.

 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. And yes, I wanted to tell you about the interrogation."

 

Gavin recoiled at that a little, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

 

"I guess you did that one without me, then. Can't say I blame you - I wouldn't have waited for you to come in either," he said, voice heavy and tired. "So? What did you get out of him?"

 

"He was most likely hired to kidnap androids. There might be a connection to the killer from our case, but we need to confirm those suspicions first."

 

A look crossed Gavin's face, one Connor couldn't read. It was gone so fast, replaced by a carefully neutral expression.

 

"I'm impressed. We have a lead now, thanks to you."

 

The way he said it was strange. Both genuine and resentful at the same time. He squinted at Connor again, a spark of anger in his eyes for a brief moment, before it vanished.

 

"You were the one to catch him, Detective," Connor replied, hoping to convey ... something. He wasn't sure what. Comfort, maybe?

 

"Yeah, right. Anything else? If not, you can leave," Gavin said, pausing after his words. "If you want to, that is."

 

His dismissive tone clashed heavily with the way he actually turned away from the door, not giving off the impression that he really wanted to let Connor go. He seemed to be aware of it himself, confusion apparent on his face.

 

The way Gavin was acting right now, somehow unable to keep his usual walls up ... Connor wondered if he knew how vulnerable it made him. How open to read.

 

Maybe he was aware of it. His stress levels were spiking again. They always did around Connor. Since the very beginning, before Connor had even become a deviant.

 

The elevated blood pressure. The defensiveness. The rapid heart beat. The constant strain Connor's presence seemed to put on him.

 

It was then that Connor realized he had probably played a considerable part in wearing Gavin down so much. He wasn't sure what he'd done, but it had to be something, right?

 

Was he really, genuinely hated this much?

 

If so, he needed to know. And he needed to know why.

 

Connor took a breath.

 

 

\---

 

 

Gavin had no idea what he was doing. Letting Connor inside like this had been a bad idea to begin with. And indirectly asking him to stay was just a recipe for disaster. Especially with the turmoil going on in his mind.

 

To be fair, he did appreciate Connor coming over to tell him about the interrogation.

 

The one he'd asked to lead.

 

The one he'd messed up by being too caught up in himself to move his ass to the precinct.

 

When had all these hours gone by? Hadn't it just been moring a second ago?

 

God, he was such a mess.

 

He caught Connor looking at him and shook his head ... Was is strange that he was actually relieved not to be alone with his thoughts?

 

He dreaded the silence that would inevitably follow once Connor left. The empty room it would create for his demons to crawl into and grow, slowly but steadily smothering him.

 

But there was also something dreadful about allowing Connor to stay, to see, to hear, to pick up on bits and pieces and ...

 

"I have to say, I'm quite relieved you answered your door and let me in," Connor stated, pulling him out of the downwards spiral in his mind for a moment.

 

Wait. What.

 

"To be honest, I actually came because I was worried after you didn't answer your phone. I thought you might be feeling unwell."

 

This had to be a joke. Was he that much of a pathetic piece of shit that he had made a machine worry enough to check up on him? Or had Connor already created a profile on him to judge his actions reactions by? Normal, not normal, batshit crazy?

 

Maybe he had been _abnormal_ enough for Connor to notice. Funny, where had he heard that before?

 

"How are you doing, really?"

 

"I - what do you mean? I'm doing great!"

 

It sounded fake in his own ears. He was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he couldn't even lie to get rid of Connor now, the android would only scan him and confirm how much of a coward he was.

 

He couldn't hide behind his wall of indifference against him.

 

"Detective Reed, can I ask you a personal question?"

 

Huh?

 

"Personal question?" Gavin asked, trying his damnedest to keep his voice steady.

 

_Give him no reason to scan you._

 

"Or two questions, really. First: Why do you hate androids so much?"

 

"What?"

 

"You were reluctant to take this case. And you don't interact with any of the androids at work."

 

Memories crept up in Gavin's mind, catching him off guard.

 

Memories of proud, smiling faces, him at the back of the room, either forgotten or with thinly veiled insults thrown his way.

 

Memories of a studio late at night, flashing LEDs, and that look he'd never forgotten. Those eyes, cold, analytical, like they weren't even human. Judging.

 

"Second: Why do you hate me, specifically? I have a feeling working with me is putting you on edge. Is there something I could do to change that?"

 

Connor was looking directly at Gavin now, his eyes searching. Were they as cold? As analytical? He felt like they were. He didn't know anymore. He couldn't see clearly, his entire world was blurred.

 

All he thought he saw was effortless perfection. Something so much beyond himself. And he hated it.

 

Connor's brows furrowed as he tilted his head, taking a step closer to Gavin, making Gavin stumble backwards. The android raised his hands as if to calm down a wild animal.

 

"Detective, your heart rate ... I apologize if I said something wrong."

 

Anger burned in Gavin's veins. White hot, painful. Pure anger ~~and fear~~. He closed the distance between him and Connor with a single step, pushing his finger into Connor's chest.

 

"Don't. Don't you dare analyze me, you prick. You know nothing about me! We are not friends! You are a means to an end, nothing else! Why are you even here? Do I look like I need a fucking nanny-bot to take care of me? Do I? Say something, goddammit!"

 

Now it was Connor who was taking a step back, raising his hands defensively. His LED flashed between yellow and red.

 

"My apologies, Detective Reed. I overstepped my boundaries. It won't happen again."

 

"You're right."

 

_Breathe, Gavin._

 

"It won't."

 

_Don't do anything stupid._

 

"Or else I'll break you. I'll break you so bad, no technician in the world will be able to put your sorry ass together again."

 

Breaking something sounded so tempting. Smashing Connor's head against the wall, making his skull crack open.

 

Hitting his own fist against the floor until his knuckles were bruised and bleeding.

 

Having a bottle smashed against his face until his nose broke and his skin gave away.

 

He couldn't breathe.

 

_He couldn't breathe._

 

"Detective?"

 

His vision was getting even more blurry, his body felt like it belonged to someone else. Distant. Numb. Cold.

 

"Detective Reed? You have to sit down. Detective Reed! Please, listen to me."

 

He registered the voice, but the words didn't make sense to him. He was getting light headed.

 

"Gavin! Are you with me?"

 

Gavin snapped out of his stupor when he heard his name, his eyes searching for Connor's.

 

"You are hyperventilating. There is air trapped in your lungs, you need to release it. You need to breathe. Out. Then in. And out again. Slowly. Yes, like that."

 

Connor was helping him. Leaning him against the wall, positioning him in a way so Gavin could pull his head between his knees and focus on breathing.

 

And he did, for an eternity.

 

Out. In. Out.


	12. Analyzed

 

Connor listened carefully to Gavin's breathing, waiting for his pounding heart to slowly calm down again.

 

He wanted to do more. He wanted to talk him through the anxiety and confusion, reassure him that he was going to be okay.

 

It was just that he had no idea how to approach him, for fear of actually making it worse.

 

He should be able to adapt better, he should be used to situations like these by now.

But he wasn't.

 

With Hank, it was different.

 

His mood swings and moments of weakness usually happened in the quiet of night, when he'd walk out of his bedroom and join Connor on the couch or at the kitchen table, desperate to not be alone, to talk about silly things until the sun rose over the horizon.

So he wouldn't drown his doubts and self-loathing in alcohol again or let his thoughts wander to the longing for oblivion he'd just barely managed to leave behind by now.

 

Gavin was ... different. There was nothing quiet about what was happening now. On the contrary, it almost felt violent, watching his body and mind fight each other.

 

Connor would have given anything to stop it. So he did what felt right, kneeling next to Gavin on the floor, whispering variations of "You're going to be okay". Hesitantly reaching out to place a grounding hand on Gavin's shoulder.

 

For the fracture of a second, the gesture made him tense up, almost making Connor withdraw his hand. But then he relaxed, leaning into the touch and letting out a sigh.

 

Connor's tactic seemed to work. Gavin's heart rate was returning to normal, slowly but surely, and his breathing, while still a little fast and shallow, appeared a lot less strained now.

 

"How are you feeling?"

 

Gavin lifted his head from his knees, looking up at him, eyes distant. There was cold sweat on his forehead.

 

"I need a drink."

 

Connor cocked his head to the side, feeling a bit displeased. He was quite sure he would never understand this human urge of getting intoxicated when faced with uncomfortable situations.

What benefit did deliberately limiting one's intellectual capacities hold in terms of dealing with a problem?

 

"Oh, don't look at me like that," Gavin said, running a hand across his face. "I know how pathetic I am."

 

"You're not."

 

Gavin just shook his head, looking defeated.

 

"Trust me, I am. One drink, alright?"

 

With a sigh, Connor got up, offering a hand to Gavin - which he took, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

 

"Tell me what you want to drink, I'll get you a glass. One. And if it's alright with you, I'd like to talk. About what just happened."

 

Gavin didn't even bother to put up a fight, instead he shrugged, pointing towards the end of the hallway at a closed door.

 

"There should be some whiskey on the counter in the kitchen. I'll be in the living room," he said, before shuffling off towards the room next to what apparently was the kitchen.

 

Connor made his way over into that room, surprised yet again by how empty the apartment felt. White walls, white floors, barely any furniture, no personal items whatsoever.

 

The closest he came to having something to analyze was a colorful assortment of teas on a shelf and a well used coffee machine on a counter. Funny, he never would have put Detective Reed as a tea lover. Coffee, however, he would have guessed, given his ludicrous caffeine intake.

 

Everything else he saw was impeccable, except for a slight coating of dust, suggesting it had been a while since most of the kitchen had been in use. It didn't feel like someone actually lived here, and somehow he suspected that it was at least partly deliberate.

 

It was kind of sad to think about.

 

It didn't take long for Connor to fix Gavin that drink. Just neat whiskey in glass he'd retrieved from one of the cupboards.

 

He went to the room Gavin had disappeared to, surprised to find it a bit more lively than the hallway or the kitchen, with a comfortable looking, dark gray couch pushed against one of the walls and a few red pillows strewn across it.

 

Still, there was something not quite right about this. No pictures, as Connor noted, and again no type of personal items. No indication of what Detective Reed liked or disliked. There was a hi-fi system, but no DVDs or records (well, little surprising, since most people preferred online libraries and streaming). He didn't spot any books, not even magazines.

 

An older model TV was placed on the far side of the room, turned on, but muted, casting soft hues of orange and blue.

 

Hank often did the same thing, allowing the TV to silently illuminate the living room when he wasn't feeling at his best. Maybe this had to do with comfort.

 

He was curious, but now was not the time to ask. So Connor just quietly placed the whiskey on the pristine glass surface of the coffee table, another empty space, only occupied by the remote and Gavin's phone, turned upside down. Shutting out the world beyond these walls.

 

"What's your verdict?", Gavin asked, huddled in one corner of the couch, legs pulled up as if to provide cover for him.

 

Connor furrowed his brows, confused.

 

"What?"

 

Gavin let out a sound that could have been a laugh or a huff or not really anything at all.

 

"I can see your LED, dumb ass. You haven't stopped analyzing my damn apartment since you arrived here."

 

Oh.

 

"I'm sorry," Connor said. "It's in my nature, but I shouldn't do so without your permission. It won't happen again."

 

Now it was a real laugh, short and tired, but only with a hint of bitterness.

 

"Cut the crap, dipshit. You know it will happen again, just like me being an idiot and insulting you. Our nature, as you put it."

 

He sighed, placing his feet back on the floor and reaching for the glass of whiskey.

 

"I asked for your verdict. What does my apartment say about me? Come on, shoot. I ain't got all day."

 

Connor hesitated for another moment before taking a breath and nodding.

 

This was a terrible idea. Why was he going along with it?

 

"Alright. As you wish. I haven't seen the bathroom or your bedroom, so I might be off with some conclusions."

 

He looked around again to confirm his observations, putting them into words.

 

"You don't have a lot of things. Only the bare minimum in terms of furniture or tech. I could chalk that up to you not being here a lot. You haven't used your kitchen in a while, most surfaces had a layer of dust on them. So you probably don't cook often, eating out or getting take out instead. You don't have a lot of free time, instead you are constantly working."

 

"Well, no shit, Sherlock," Gavin said, with a hint of amusement in his voice. "We work together. You know how much overtime I put in and how shitty my eating habits are."

 

"I wasn't done yet," Connor explained, continuing his analysis. "Your work schedule alone doesn't explain the lack of personal items."

 

Gavin started to shift uncomfortably on the couch, still clutching his drink. He hadn't taken a sip of it yet.

 

Maybe Connor should stop ... But he felt he was getting somewhere, putting more of the pieces together, closing in on the truth, whatever that was.

 

"I see no indication of what you like or dislike anywhere. I doubt you are indifferent to absolutely everything, there has to be something you find enjoyable, but you don't display it. No books, movies, music. Not even magazines."

 

"Maybe I don't like to clutter my space," Gavin said, avoiding Connor's eyes.

 

"Or maybe you don't like to reveal yourself. More than that, you are actively hiding."

 

Never before had Connor seen the man turn so pale so quickly, but he didn't object, leaving Connor the room he needed to continue.

 

"It's going so far that there is no indication of your past here. There are no pictures, neither photos nor paintings or even posters. Most people like to keep their family or friends on display, to feel connected or at least honor their memories if they have passed."

 

Gavin was sweating now, gripping his glass so hard Connor was afraid he might break it and hurt himself.

 

He should stop.

 

"What I don't get is why."

 

He should stop right now.

 

"Are you afraid of something?"

 

This wasn't an interrogation, this was not what Gavin needed at all.

 

"Are you afraid of this information getting used against you?"

 

Why couldn't he stop?

 

"Or is there something in your past you would rather forget about?"

 

He could see that he was hurting Gavin. He looked so vulnerable now, wide eyed and shaking.

 

"What are you running away from?"

 

The sound of glass shattering on the ground pulled Connor back to reality, glittering shards and amber liquid flying everywhere. Gavin didn't move, didn't speak, didn't react in any way, other than staring at Connor, his eyes burning, lip quivering.

 

Oh shit. What had he done.

 

"I - I'm sorry."

 

"Go."

 

How a single word could hold so much weight, so much pain, was beyond Connor's understanding. It felt like a punch to his bio-components. He was almost surprised not to see error messages flickering across his vision.

 

"Gavin, please -"

 

"Go! Get out of here!"

 

Connor didn't want to. He had messed up. He wanted to make it right, to apologize, to take back everything he had just said. But how?

 

Gavin was still looking at him, the burning in his eyes replaced by utter exhaustion and the shadow of something he couldn't read.

 

"Please," he said quietly. "Please just go, Connor."

 

Whether it was the soft, almost broken sound of his voice or the fact that Gavin had used Connor's name, he couldn't say.

 

Connor just gave up on trying to fix this mess he'd made, turning around to all but run out of the apartment, down the stairs, all the way to a taxi stand. He didn't dare to look back once.

 

What had he done?

 

 

\---

 

 

Gavin felt like screaming.

 

This had to be a nightmare, one he couldn't wake up from.

 

He'd taken every step he could think of to erase traces of himself from his own life. He'd become a non-entity in an empty space, hoping to not leave any openings.

 

And in doing so, he'd revealed so much about himself that it had taken Connor one look around his shitty apartment to see everything.

 

With those all-seeing eyes of his.

 

Gavin felt exposed. Naked.

 

He was fifteen again, backed into a corner, all of his truths and secrets laid bare in front of him. Fucking online messages. It had taken a few chats and the cruelty of indifference from someone he'd thought he could trust to destroy his life, his sad excuse of a home.

 

And now it was haunting him again, in the form of Connor stripping down his defenses like paper.

 

Only, Connor hadn't been indifferent.

 

He'd apologized. And this look on his face. Realization. Guilt. Sadness. Human emotions.

 

A machine had shown more compassion towards him than his own flesh and blood.

 

He'd almost been ready to disclose everything to him, to something posing as a human. Like he hadn't learned anything at all.

 

He couldn't handle this right now, or ever.

 

He felt sick again. He was shaking, sweaty, disgusting.

 

Gavin looked down, at the shards of glass glistening in the glow of the evening sun finding its way into the living room.

 

He dropped to his knees, trying to collect the pieces. Of course, he only ended up cutting himself, hissing as he pulled back his hand, blood running over his fingers. He simply stared at it, doing nothing.

 

Some drops hit the floor, red against white in a stark contrast.

 

He felt like screaming again, so he buried his face in the arm of the couch and just _screamed_.

 

 

\---

 

 

Hank looked up from his pizza when he heard the door open, preparing himself for the lecture about healthy eating habits that would surely follow.

 

Or not.

 

Connor just rounded the corner in silence, nodding at Hank while avoiding his eyes and dropping down on the couch. His LED flickered between yellow and an angry, bright red.

 

Something was wrong. And Sumo seemed to feel it too, abandoning his bowl of food to scurry over to Connor, licking his face and whining.

 

Oh shit, this was not a good sign.

 

Hank was on his feet before he could think about it, rushing over to the couch to kneel down next to Connor's head.

 

"Hey, hey, hey," he said softly. "What's wrong, son? Did something happen?"

 

Connor didn't answer, only shifting on the couch a bit to allow Sumo to lie down next to him, his arms moving to hold the giant dog closer.

 

He looked so lost like this, so fragile, it broke Hank's heart into tiny, sharp pieces.

 

"Come on, you can talk to me."

 

Then a thought crossed his mind. Ugly and dark and anger inducing. _Reed_.

 

Connor had gone to visit him and given the state he was in now, Reed had probably done something terrible to Connor.

 

"What did the bastard do?" he asked, furious already. "Did he hurt you?"

 

Connor shook his head, recoiling a bit.

 

"No," he said, voice unsteady. "He didn't do anything wrong."

 

Now that was some bullshit right there, but Hank needed to find out more, keep Connor talking.

 

"Tell me what happened, maybe I can help."

 

"I messed up, Hank," Connor said, guilt and shame so apparent on his face, it felt like a punch to the gut.

 

"I find that hard to believe. But please, tell me what you mean. I really want to help."

 

It was no use. Connor just pressed his face into Sumo's fur, letting out a shaky breath.

 

"Okay," Hank said, giving up on this approach. "Why don't you take a nap to clear your head, son? Relax, create some space for your problem solving capacity or whatever you call it, you know?"

 

To his relief, Connor nodded, slowing his breathing down, going still.

 

Hank waited for a good ten minutes to make sure Connor was really asleep, LED returning to a steady, slow blinking blue.

 

Then he grabbed his keys from the counter, making sure he had his phone, badge and gun – you never knew, right?

 

He looked over at Sumo, still lying next to Connor like the good, loyal dog he was.

 

"You take care of him, alright? I'll be back in a few."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could have gone better.


	13. Closer to the truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! I hope you are doing well today. Let's take a look at how the story progresses, with Hank at Gavin's place and other events unfolding in the background.

 

The drive to Gavin Reed's apartment did nothing to calm Hank down. On the contrary, he caught himself imagining all kinds of terrible things Reed might have said or done to make Connor feel like this.

 

He'd known how bad of an idea it had been to let Connor go to him alone. Why had he let it happen? What kind of a father was he?

 

He stopped himself, forcing his attention back on the road until he pulled into a parking lot right next to his destination.

 

He didn't even bother locking his car, storming up to the entrance of the apartment complex, up the stairs to the number 33.

 

His fist collided with the door multiple times, creating a loud, threatening sound, like he was planning on knocking the door down by himself instead of waiting for it to open. He briefly wondered if anyone in this apartment complex would bother calling the police on him. That would be fun to explain at work. Hank found he didn't care.

 

He took half a step back, clenching his hands into fists, unsure of whether or not just to deck Gavin in the stupid face as soon as he opened this door.

 

There was silence for a moment, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching from inside.

 

 

\---

 

 

The door swung open, revealing a pale face and wide, bright eyes.

 

"Simon? Are you alright?"

 

Markus got up from his seat, leaving behind the digital notes he'd been sifting through to prepare an announcement to the population of New Jericho, a reminder to not go out alone, especially at night, if they could help it. Due to the possibility of anti android violence.

 

Simon just shook his head, allowing Markus to lead him over to the table, gently forcing him to sit down on one of the chairs.

 

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Markus said, trying to keep his voice light.

 

"Worse," Simon said, reaching out, his skin peeling back to reveal the white underneath. "I've got to show you the data Josh and I have been compiling for Connor. It is insane."

 

Markus sat down next to him, doing his best to push down the fear of what he might see, before taking Simon's hand in his.

 

Their minds touched, exchanging the information they intended to share, along with a glimpse of Markus' worry and Simon's feelings of shock and disbelief, their thoughts turning into one for a split second before separating them back into their own distinct entities.

 

Markus pulled back, barely able to fight down a gasp.

 

He almost didn't understand what he was looking at.

 

He had the files Simon had transferred to him open in his mind.

 

It was a list of over a hundred androids that had disappeared from the face of the earth within the last three months. For some of them, it had been expected, notes to their registered profiles pointing towards trouble with integrating themselves into New Jericho or them stating wishes of settling elsewhere on their own.

 

But at least half of them hadn't left any indication of reasons they might up and leave without telling anyone or asking for guidance in doing so – guidance that Markus and the other leaders of New Jericho were open about and very willing to give.

 

He scanned the files a little closer, filtering out the androids that had been marked as likely related to the case Connor had told him about. All of them older models, all had disappeared without a trace within the last month, some leaving behind families and friends in New Jericho, none of which had any idea of what might have happened to them.

 

43 androids in total.

 

This was bad.

 

"We need to inform Connor of this immediately, have him check if the victims of the android homicides are on this list."

 

"That might not be enough. We need to put up a curfew, to protect our people from attacks."

 

Markus frowned. He didn't like that idea, at all.

 

"Connor asked us to keep a low profile. If there are androids involved in this crime and they are inside New Jericho, we might tip them off."

 

"No, Markus," Simon said, shaking his head firmly. "We can't risk putting our people in danger for the possibility that there _might_ be someone like that here. Remember what Connor said about being attacked with a taser? If they could get a jump on Connor of all people, just imagine what they could do to an older housekeeping model. Someone like myself."

 

The look Simon gave him was both determined and full of fear – for their people, especially the ones close to him.

 

Markus let out a sigh, his wish to honor Connor's request crumbling.

 

"You're right. I'll go tell Connor in person."

 

Simon smiled, encouraging him.

 

"Okay, just be careful. Take North with you, she always has your back. Josh and I will prepare for the announcement and the curfew then."

 

Markus nodded before he turned around, calling for a cab to take him to Connor's place.

 

 

\---

 

 

Hank was just about ready to grab Reed by the collar as soon as the door opened. There were two things stopping him.

 

One, the look of utter self-loathing and anguish on the guy's face. It struck a chord with Hank, like looking into the mirror after a particularly nasty night, spent in a drunken stupor, trying his damnedest to forget the past - and failing miserably.

 

Second, the dried blood on his skin, with some fresh blood dripping from his fingers.

 

"Jesus Christ, kid. What the fuck did you do?"

 

Gavin didn't answer, instead letting out a broken laugh that sounded more like a sob.

 

Damn. Hank was not prepared for a situation like this; he'd come to kick some ass, not take care of someone who clearly was broken and lost. He didn't even have it in him to hate the guy right now.

 

So Hank did what Connor usually did when Hank was not in his right mind. He took action without thinking twice, pushing Reed inside and closing the door behind them.

 

"Bathroom?" he demanded, probably looking more like he wanted to drown Gavin in the bathtub rather than help him out.

 

Gavin didn't seem to care either way, just pointing towards a room on the left. He even let Hank pull him with him, sitting down on the edge of the tub with only minimal force needed.

 

Hank took a clean looking towel, soaking it in lukewarm water from the sink, before grabbing Reed's arm and starting to clean off the dried blood.

 

It looked like there was only a cut to his finger, deep, but closing already, so a band aid would suffice.

 

Hank finished cleaning up an then proceeded to sift through Reed's medical cabinet, pulling out a pack of band aids and some disinfectant.

 

He sprayed the wound with the disinfectant, slapping a band aid on it afterward, making Gavin hiss in pain.

 

Yeah, okay. Maybe he could have been a little bit more gentle, but this was still the guy who had hurt Connor somehow.

 

Still, Reed didn't say anything, just letting things happen. The man in front of him had so little to do with the abrasive asshole Hank knew from work, he found himself doing a double take, studying his face.

 

He was ghostly pale, his scar more visible than ever before. And his eyes were red and a bit puffy.

 

Had he been crying?

 

Holy shit, Hank would have taken any bet that Gavin was incapable of emotions other than smugness, anger and general assholery.

 

Maybe, just maybe, that had been a little bit unfair to the kid.

 

Connor had probably been right with his assertion of there being a lot more to Gavin Reed than his unlikable persona. Then again, Connor was at home now, curled into Sumo because of something clearly related to his visit to Reed.

 

"Care to tell me what happened?" Hank asked, trying his best to keep his voice level.

 

This finally got Reed to look up at him, exhaustion visible on his features, from the sunken cheeks to the bags under his eyes.

 

"Did Connor say something to you?"

 

He didn't sound defensive, just tired.

 

"He didn't say much of anything, that's the fucking problem," Hank stated, unable to hide the anger he felt. "He just came home, looking like the world had ended! So I want you to explain to me what the fuck happened between the two of you."

 

He accentuated his last words by jabbing a finger into Reeds chest with almost enough force to send him flying into the bathtub.

 

Reed only let out a sigh so deep, it made Hank wonder if he was trying to force his soul out of his body to let him escape this conversation.

 

"I fucked up."

 

What?

 

"Come again?"

 

"I fucked up," Gavin repeated, louder this time, clearly angry, but not at Hank. "It's my fault."

 

"Funny," Hank remarked. "Connor said the same thing earlier."

 

Gavin's eyes widened at that, disbelief practically written all over his face.

 

"Come on, kid, what happened? I can be the judge of whether you fucked up, Connor did, you both did – or you are both just giant idiots."

 

There was a moment of silence before Gavin spoke up again.

 

"Alright."

 

He took a breath.

 

"I was ... not feeling well when Connor came over. I won't go into detail about that, but I said some nasty shit to get rid of him. He stayed anyway when he saw how bad off I really was."

 

Hank felt a pang in his chest.

 

As much as he wanted to dislike Gavin, he himself had said and done things to Connor he was not proud of, mostly out of anger or grief or fear. And Connor, being the lovable fool he was, had stayed by his side through it all, lending a helping hand.

 

So yeah, he kind of understood the situation a little.

 

"Yep, sounds like Connor. Then what happened? Did you snap at him again?"

 

Gavin shrugged, looking even more lost than before.

 

"Yes, and no. I felt a bit better after he stayed and he was really trying so hard to make me comfortable. And had to go and ask him to do something stupid. Something I knew would make me mad if he did it. I did it anyway, because I am an idiot."

 

Now that wasn't exactly helpful. What could Reed have asked of Connor to throw both of them off so much? Enough to turn them both into a guilt-ridden mess.

 

"Care to explain a little more?"

 

"No."

 

Yeah, no way he was getting out of that one so easily.

 

"Fuck you, prick, you agreed to fill me in. How am I supposed to play judge here without your cooperation?"

 

For a moment, it looked like Gavin was starting to retaliate something, but then he just shrugged again, not up for a fight.

 

"Might as well tell you. Once Connor calms down again, he's gonna give you all the juicy details anyway."

 

Hank was about to retort that Connor wasn't like that, but he stopped himself. If this was the easiest way to get something out of Gavin, so be it.

 

"I asked Connor to profile me, based on my living conditions."

 

Wait, what?

 

Hank took a quick look around, taking in his environment. Clean. And empty. No clutter, no personal items, nothing.

 

He'd been too focused on Reed earlier to notice that. If the rest of the apartment was like that, he wondered how Connor had gotten anything from this.

 

"And he saw right through me, so calm and analytical, like it was nothing. Stripped down every line of defense I had, with no care in the world. Of course he did," Gavin stated, oblivious to the incredulous stare Hank was giving him. "He is always the perfect machine, so much beyond us humans, beyond me. And it's pissing me off!"

 

Gavin smashed his fist against the wall at that, making Hank jump. There was so much turmoil on his face, so much raw emotion that it was almost enough to make Hank gasp.

 

Instead, Hank took a breath to steady himself, grabbing Gavin by the wrist roughly, to force the kid to look at him.

 

"Wanna know my verdict?" he asked, not waiting for a reply. "You are probably both idiots."

 

"Huh?"

 

Gavin's eyes were suddenly wide, questioning.

 

"If Connor's feeling so down because he blames himself for the basket case you are, he's an idiot, obviously. He may or may not have gone overboard with what he did, but that's beside the point. And if your whole reason for hating Connor's guts is that he's a perfect little robot, you are either blind or delusional."

 

Not wanting to meet Hank's gaze, he stared at his feet, biting his lip.

 

"Really, Reed. Are we talking about the same Connor? Because the Connor I know gets flustered every time he encounters an emotion he doesn't know how to deal with yet."

 

Gavin's mouth opened slightly, like he wanted to say or ask anything, but it seemed like he didn't have any words. So Hank continued.

 

"The Connor I know spent a whole week brooding over what to give me for Christmas, only to end up not getting anything, because he didn't want it to be the wrong thing, even though he had compiled complete charts of the most suitable presents."

 

He couldn't help laugh at that and for the fracture of a second, even Gavin showed the shadow of a smile before it was gone again.

 

"The Connor I know keeps me company in the middle of the night, when I am too restless or caught up in the past to sleep, not caring about the toll it takes on him."

 

He paused for a moment, allowing the words to sink in a bit.

 

Was it his imagination or did the air suddenly feel tense?

 

"The Connor I know desperately tries and fails to hide how stressed he gets whenever he notices me slipping up. Falling back into my bad habits. Just to keep me calm through it all. So don't you tell me anything about him being a perfect machine."

 

"I ... I didn't know," Gavin said.

 

He sounded so hollow, so empty, it was tugging at Hank's heartstrings, but he had to get his point across.

 

"You didn't know because you never made an effort to see it. To you, Connor is only a machine, designed for a task. You never bothered to look beyond that."

 

Hank decided to leave it at that. Gavin had more than enough to process right now. He turned around, pausing at the door for a moment.

 

"Think about this conversation, alright? And don't be a coward. What happened isn't the end of the world. I know Connor. And he's giving out second chances like Halloween candy, to anyone honestly looking for a fresh start. Come and apologize to him tomorrow."

 

With that, he left, making his way home. Maybe he could talk some sense into his son as well.

 

 


	14. Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody. I hope you're doing well. If not, hang in there!
> 
> Enjoy the chapter! :)

 

Markus found himself standing in a quiet neighborhood, in front of a small, one story building. There was no car in the driveway, and the blinds were obscuring the view inside.

 

"We should have announced our visit," Markus said. "They could be at work still."

 

North just brushed past Markus, playfully rolling her eyes.

 

"You're overthinking, as per usual. We'll 'announce' our presence now and if Connor and his grumpy human are not home, we just call them to arrange a meeting. Simple as that."

 

Her confidence alone was enough to calm Markus down a bit, soothing the nerves that had been building up since he had received the files from Simon.

 

So he just gestured towards the door, leaving it to North to ring the doorbell.

 

Which she did, with her finger on the button for a solid five seconds, flashing Markus a mischievous smile over her shoulder.

 

Markus raised his eyebrows as if to ask if she was being serious. It just made her smile a little wider.

 

"What? This way we'll know for sure if someone is home or not."

 

For a moment, nothing happened. Then there was the sound of a dog barking - Sumo, as Connor had told Markus once, a spark in his eyes as he had gone into great detail about how great the dog was - followed by the door being opened. North, standing too close to it, was immediately jumped by a mountain of fur, almost bringing her to her knees.

 

"Woah, hey there! Nice meeting you, too!"

 

A tiny smile tugged at Markus' lips, fading away as soon as he saw the look on Connor's face, distant and distraught.

 

"Connor, are you alright?"

 

"Markus, North, I didn't expect you to visit," Connor said quietly, completely ignoring the question. "Please, come in."

 

Then he turned, leaving the door open behind himself.

 

Markus and North exchanged a worried glance before following him inside, Sumo at their heels, wagging his tail excitedly.

 

Once the door was closed, the dog immediately rushed back to Connor, who was sitting at the kitchen table in silence, and put his giant head into Connor's lab.

 

Under normal circumstances, Connor would have remained standing in an overly polite manner, waiting for his guests to sit down before him; Markus knew that from experience. These were obviously not normal circumstances.

 

He wished he had Connor's ability to scan androids for clues and to determine their stress level just by looking. As a simple caretaker, he couldn't do that. He just had to find out why Connor was so distressed in the conventional way now.

 

The way thing were, he only had Connor's LED to aid him, which was pulsing yellow with occasional flashes of red.

It was the first time in a very long time he felt glad that LEDs existed at all.

 

Connor looked up as Markus sat down in the chair next to him, with North taking the chair on the other side, leaning closer to her friend.

 

"Connor, did something happen?" Markus asked, keeping his voice soft. "You know you can tell us."

 

"It's nothing."

 

North scoffed a little.

 

"It's clearly not nothing, you look like shit. So spit it out; otherwise, we can't do anything to help you."

 

Connor just shook his head vehemently.

 

"We don't have time for this. I don't assume you just decided to pay me a friendly visit. Is this related to the case?"

 

Markus was unsure how to handle this situation correctly. He was worried about his friend, but on the other hand, he had a whole people to protect against kidnappings and possibly murder.

 

He decided to drop the 'interrogation' for now and get to the point of their visit, vowing in his mind to do his best to take care of anything else afterward.

 

"Alright, we'll go over the reason for why we're here first," he said, doing best to ignore the disappointment in North' eyes. "Josh and Simon transferred a file to me, containing all the missing androids registered with New Jericho who went missing within the last three months."

 

Connor made a humming sound, confirming he was paying attention. His eyes were clearer now, more focused. He always did put his mission above his own problems, Markus knew.

 

"I assume you found something."

 

Markus nodded, biting his lip. "We did. And it's so much worse than we anticipated."

 

There was a subtle shift in Connor's expression, his eyes widened and the hint of a frown crept onto his face. Tension, worry, a bit of morbid curiosity.

 

"Let me show you."

 

Markus reached out, peeling back his artificial skin to invite Connor to connect.

 

Connor seemed oddly apprehensive at first, the frown becoming more apparent, but then he took a breath and took his hand, white touching white.

 

Markus didn't even have to open his mind, slipping into the other consciousness brushing against his own was as easy as breathing.

 

Connecting to Connor was intense and strange, yet familiar, like they were cut from the same cloth. They were the same series, he remembered, drastically different, yet similar in a way.

 

The closeness was almost uncomfortable. Invasive. Like he was being viewed underneath a microscope.

 

He suddenly knew that Connor could force open his memories without so much as trying.

 

But he wouldn't. Markus knew that, too, relaxing a bit.

 

He pushed his thoughts back, concentrating on transferring the files. There was something else there, feelings and images shifting back and forth between them.

 

Markus' conversation with Simon, his initial devastation and worry; Connor in an environment Markus didn't recognize, staring into a face full of fear and desperation; a guilt so intense, Markus at first thought it was his own - but it wasn't.

 

Connor let go of his hand the second the transfer was done, making a point of not looking at anyone.

 

Markus felt a bit dazed by the intensity of the connection and the sudden loss of it. Still, he opened his mouth, wanting to say something. He didn't get the chance.

 

"I see now," Connor stated, voice slightly shaky, LED flashing between yellow and red. "This is a frightening development. I understand why you are putting up a curfew and I support your decision, even if it might interfere with the investigation."

 

"I wanted to tell you in person," Markus said. "But Connor -"

 

"It seems like our victims are on that list as well, confirming our suspicions," Connor interrupted him. "They match our case files. I will contact Captain Fowler and reaffirm that I can send you the victims' details, so that their friends and families might get some closure."

 

"Thank you, that would mean a lot."

 

North jumped in at that moment, visibly fed up with the situation.

 

"Okay, now that that's out of the way, can we please, _please_ go back to why Connor is acting so weird?"

 

Clearly taken aback, Connor just glanced back and forth between her and Markus, who was nodding in agreement.

 

"I ... I need to contact Hank about the case -"

 

"You can do that _after_ we talk," North stated. "He's bound to come back here anyway, it's his damn house after all."

 

Connor didn't seem all that convinced, but North was not about to let him get out of this one.

 

"Come on, whatever you did - and don't ask me how I know you did something, you've got 'guilt' written all over your face - it can't be that bad. Or did you kill someone? Do we need to bury a body? Say the word and I'll go grab a shovel."

 

Connor looked absolutely mortified at that, causing Markus to just start laughing, with some of the stress and tension subsiding.

 

"That would be obstruction of justice, you can't do that ..."

 

Markus found himself laughing even harder at that, before he forced himself to calm down again.

 

"It's not meant to be taken literally," Markus tried to explain, earning himself look of fake outrage from North.

 

"I, for one, was dead serious," she said, pausing for a second. "I mean it. Whatever you need and whatever you did, we are here for you."

 

"I ... don't know what to say."

 

He appeared simultaneously lost and hopeful. It caused Markus to feel a sudden burst of protective instinct for him. Funny, how things could change. Things and people. From someone to be feared to someone Markus was afraid for.

 

North smiled, soft in a way she didn't often show.

 

"You could start with letting us know what's eating you."

 

"Do I even have a choice?" Connor asked, disarmed.

 

"No! But I won't judge, whatever it is. That would be hypocritical."

 

Both Markus and Connor looked at her in surprise and confusion, making her let out a sigh.

 

"Look, I have not exactly a history of always making the best choices. I would have blown up the city if not for Markus deciding against stooping so low. And that's far from the only thing I regret now. So spill the beans, what did you do that has you all guilty and riled up?"

 

Connor took a moment to compose himself before answering.

 

"I went to meet someone I was worried about. He was ... vulnerable. Emotionally exhausted. I should have known better, but when he asked me to profile him as a joke, I took it seriously. And I also took it too far."

 

Markus wondered if the man he'd seen in Connor's memories was the one he was talking about. However, he didn't dare ask, for fear of breaking the moment; he could take an educated guess and just assume for now.

 

"I saw ... I saw that I was hurting him with what I was saying, but I couldn't stop myself. It was like I wasn't even in control, like my analytical program had overwritten my free will."

 

"Connor, that's not -," Markus started to say, but Connor didn't let him finish.

 

"Don't say it was not my fault!" he said, his voice becoming louder with every word. "I could have stopped it! I know that! But I wanted to _know_. I wanted to see more, understand more, to break down his barriers."

 

He fell silent so suddenly, it was jarring, the almost-scream turning into heavy breathing. Sumo was whining now, licking Connor's hand to comfort him.

 

Markus, with all his leadership skills, was at a loss at what to say.

 

It was North who spoke up next, voice calm, chin resting on her hand in a thoughtful manner. She almost looked relaxed, only the slight tension in her jaw and shoulders giving her away.

 

"I won't say it's not your fault," she said. "But I will say that I get why. You wanted to get closer to him, right? Understanding the circumstances often means understanding a person. Figuring out how they tick - and how to be there for them when they need it. I know a thing or two about that."

 

She flashed Markus a smile, one that send sparks down to his pump regulator. He couldn't help but feel a new level of admiration for North and her determination, warmth spreading in his chest.

 

Connor was staring at her now, mouth slightly open, eyes full of something Markus couldn't quite define.

 

"I ... I think you are right," he said, slowly, his shoulders slumping a little. "What do I do now? I messed everything up, and I can't just take it back. What if he hates me now?"

 

North reached out, touching his arm lightly.

 

"Start with apologizing. To be honest, he is partly to blame for asking you in the first place, if he wasn't prepared for a truth bomb. He sounds like kind of an idiot."

 

She laughed softly, teasing, yet still sounding uncharacteristically kind and warm. Markus loved seeing her that way, shedding the bitterness to reveal her caring side, the one that had pulled him out of his doubts and fears.

 

"Now, if you make up, you two can be idiots together. Doesn't that sound nice?"

 

And finally, _finally_ , Connor was smiling again, LED returning to a soft and steady blue.

 

"How strange. It actually does."


	15. Talking is hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Our two precious idiots need to talk things out. This is bound to be awkward as hell.

 

Connor had a lot of things to think about.

 

The 43 missing androids and what this development meant for the case.

 

His own feelings of guilt, which in spite of his talk with North didn't seem to go away entirely.

 

The apology he intended to give, forming and reforming in his head over and over again, unsatisfactory.

 

He really needed some time to calm down and just think.

 

So, obviously, the world had other plans for him. And those plans came in the form of a notification flashing across his vision.

 

New android homicides. Same neighborhood as before. Close to the same location from last time, but differently executed. Multiple victims. The pattern was changing, the murders were evolving.

 

This wasn't good.

 

He didn't waste a second before dialing Hank's number, with Hank picking up at the third ring. There was the sound of an engine running in the background. He was driving, it seemed.

 

"Are you alright, son? Feeling better?"

 

Usually, Connor would have smiled at how caring Hank was towards him, but he was too preoccupied with the case right now.

 

"I am, but that's not why I am calling. There have been new homicides again, same neighborhood, change of pattern. Multiple android victims on site. You've probably received the details as well."

 

"Shit," Hank said. "If this is our serial killer, that bastard is evolving. Or if it's a group, they're doing changes. I don't like the sound of that."

 

Connor nodded to himself, even though Hank couldn't see him right now.

 

"Me neither. But there's also some new information on our victims. Markus came by earlier, with a file of androids missing from new Jericho."

 

"What did you find?"

 

He took a breath, closing his eyes to conjure up the details.

 

"There are 43 androids fitting our profile that went missing without a trace in a single month - older non-combat models that could easily be taken out by a modified taser. And that's only counting the ones that did get registered with New Jericho, there might be more that decided to remain on their own and got swept off the street."

 

Hank let out a sharp breath. "What? That's insane! I'm guessing our victims are on that list?"

 

"Yes," Connor confirmed. "All of them. The AC700, named Blake, the AX400, named Paige, and the WR600, named Matt."

 

There was a sigh at the other end of a line and then the sound of tires screeching.

 

"Let me just go get Reed before I pick you up, alright?"

 

Connor actually stopped to play back his audio registry, just to confirm he'd heard correctly.

 

"What do you mean, 'go get Reed'? Hank, what is going on?"

 

Hank just made a strange noise that sounded like it was halfway between grumbling and laughing.

 

"It's not like I'm gonna let him drive anywhere in the condition he's in," he simply stated.

 

"Condition he's in – Hank, did you _visit_ him?"

 

"Get yourself ready, I'll be there in roughly half an hour."

 

He ended the call before Connor could get one more word out, leaving him dumbfounded and slightly mortified.

 

 

\---

 

 

Gavin had already resigned himself to staring at the wall for the rest of the evening, thoughts swirling around in his head. He was too tired to sort through them.

 

Part of him was also convinced that the whole episode of Hank Anderson visiting him and actually taking care of him had been a fever dream of sorts. How could something like that be a real memory?

 

Did he accidentally fall asleep standing upright and hit his head somewhere?

 

It sounded a whole lot more convincing than Hank of all people taking time out of his day to come over, stitch Gavin up and listen to his guilt ridden breakdown, only to end up giving some good, sensible advice.

 

Even if real, that event had most definitely been a one off situation. Or so he thought, until he registered a knock on his front door, prompting him to get up and greet yet another visitor for the day.

 

He would have much rather curled up in a corner and forgotten the rest of the world existed, thank you very much, but with how heavy the knocks were, he was risking his door being taken down that way.

 

And so it was that he found himself face to face with Hank Anderson for the second time today.

 

He was tempted to ask if he had forgotten something - like to beat him to a pulp for example - but Hank didn't give him a chance to get a word out.

 

"Get dressed properly, get your phone and let's get going. I'm driving. There has been some development in the case, I'll fill you in on the way."

 

"What? Why should I drive with you? I have my own car, you know?"

 

Hank just scoffed, shoving Gavin inside and shutting the door behind himself.

 

"Like hell I'm gonna let you behind the wheel like this. You look like a zombie - and take that with all the offense you want. Plus, I wanted to make sure you got the notification at all. You haven't looked at your phone in hours, now have you? Or else you would have responded to Connor's ten billion messages about the interrogation, just to shut him up already."

 

It was a weird feeling, having his bullshit laid out so casually in front of him. If he hadn't know better, he'd have thought Connor got his snooping abilities from Hank.

But they weren't related and Connor had been curious to a fault already before ever warming up to Hank and vice versa.

Maybe it was part of the reason they clicked so well together.

 

And Gavin, too tired to keep up his cocky persona right now, just did as he was told. He threw on a pair of jeans and a clean shirt, put the phone into his pocket and slipped on some sneakers.

 

Just one last step. He moved to the bathroom, opening the cabinet to get out his contact lenses.

He paused, looking between his reflection, his eyes an angry red, and the box in his hand, before scrunching his nose.

 

Yeah, no way. Just thinking about the discomfort of further irritating his eyes was enough to make him reconsider.

 

He looked over at the case his glasses were in, the ones he usually wore when he was alone at home, with nobody else around.

 

Was it worth it? He'd never admitted, to anyone, that his eyesight was pretty shitty. The thought alone made him uneasy for some reason.

 

Ah, fuck it. He'd already shown off an emotional strip-tease in front of both Connor and Hank today, what harm could letting them in on another secret do? He just hoped there were no officers he knew at the crime scene.

 

He put on his glasses, watching the world turn from blurry to crystal clear for a moment before he stepped into the hallway again.

 

"I'm ready," he said, avoiding Hank's surprised gaze.

 

To his credit, Hank didn't say anything to him about it, at least until they were in the car, a model so old, it was beyond vintage, with an actual fucking dashboard hula dancer in it.

 

"Nice kitsch," Gavin said, earning himself a pissed off look from Hank.

 

"Nice specs."

 

He cringed a bit. Yeah, he deserved that one.

 

 

\---

 

 

This was ... Connor didn't have enough words to describe this strange mix of emotions he was experiencing right now.

 

True to his word, Hank had arrived about 35 minutes after their call had ended, with Gavin in the passenger's seat.

 

And Gavin looked ... different. Calmer, more grounded, casually talking to Hank, his hands gesturing a bit, seeming almost relaxed, if not for how stiff his shoulders were.

 

Oh, and there were also the glasses. A dark, broad frame and rectangular lenses with softly rounded edges, accentuating his strong features, yet at the same time adding a sense of vulnerability.

 

He wasn't exactly surprised to learn Gavin had problems with his vision - the clues had been there for him to pick up, he just hadn't put his mind to it. Seeing it, however, was different in a way he couldn't explain.

 

So he stopped and stared for a few brief seconds, taking in Gavin's profile.

 

Connor didn't understand what the feeling was that settled inside of him. It almost felt like an error to his bio-components, his pump regulator especially, speeding up the flow of Thirium through his body. So much so that he ran a quick diagnostic - which came back empty.

 

Maybe it had to do with the guilt he still felt about how he'd left Detective Reed back at his place. In that case, he'd just have to find the right moment to address this issue - preferably alone, so he didn't let anything slip Gavin didn't want anybody else to know by accident.

 

He took a breath, shaking the odd emotions he couldn't properly pinpoint, and walked up to the vehicle.

 

Gavin must have sensed the movement, because he turned towards Connor, immediately going a little paler than he already was, but nonetheless nodding at him in greeting through the open window.

 

His eyes were downcast, and Connor caught himself mimicking this behavior to look at his feet, or anywhere really, instead of Gavin.

 

"Hey, Connor."

 

Connor found himself hesitating, unsure how to address him.

 

"Evening, Detective Reed," he finally said, noticing his own voice coming out flat and a bit too quiet.

 

Connor was suddenly very much aware of how awkwardly he was standing here instead of just getting in the car. So he opened the backdoor, slipping inside and gesturing for Hank to get going.

 

It wasn't an entirely silent drive this time, with Hank's music collection blaring in the background, but neither of the men in the car spoke up until they reached the crime scene.

 

Connor caught Hank looking at him in the rear view mirror a few times, studying his features when he thought Connor didn't notice. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but wouldn't or couldn't.

 

He was instantly relieved as soon as they arrived, at least until he tried opening the door to find it locked.

 

Did the door malfunction? He couldn't override the mechanics, they weren't advanced enough to link up with.

 

"Not so fast, you two," Hank said, drawing the attention of both Connor and Gavin. "I am not working in this awkward mess of an atmosphere, that's for sure. So I'm gonna go ahead and take a look - alone."

 

Gavin wanted to protest, but Hank just had to shoot him one withering glare to make him shut up - which was an impressive feat, he thought, at least until Hank turned that same glare towards him.

 

It was threatening enough to set off Connor's defensive alert system, making him tense and uncomfortable.

 

"You two can join me, _after_ you talk about this stupid mess you've both made. If you come after me within the next ten minutes, I'll drag you home and lock you in the basement until you've worked through this bullshit."

 

Connor was tempted to remind Hank that they didn't even have a basement, but he kept quiet, knowing full well that the threat wasn't entirely empty regardless.

 

"Okay then, ten minutes," Hank said, releasing the lock on the doors to get out. "I gave you my warning. Stay. In. The. Car. And try to actually talk instead of waiting out the time limit. I'll know the difference."

 

With that, he was gone, slamming the door and leaving both Connor and Gavin alone in the car.

 

Connor's processors went into overdrive, frantically trying to collect his thoughts.

 

How should he do this? What was the best approach? Did he have enough data to not let this turn into an even bigger disaster?

 

He had no idea.

 

 

\---

 

 

No way. No fucking way.

 

This was not what Gavin had been prepared for. He'd wanted to address his fuck up with Connor, yes, but he'd also wanted to do it on his terms, at a time he thought was right.

 

Which probably would have been never, as his brain unhelpfully supplied.

 

Traitor.

 

Silence filled the car, now that Hank and the noise he excused as being music were gone. He couldn't even hear the officers that were talking outside a few feet away. And neither himself nor Connor had tried to say something as of yet.

 

Gavin felt his palms getting wet with nerves. His anxiety was spiking, making it harder to keep his breathing level.

 

The tension in the air was starting to get heavier and thicker by the minute, like it was slowly trying to smother Gavin.

 

He needed to say -

 

"I am sorry."

 

Yes, that. Wait, what?

 

"What did you say?" Gavin asked, dumbfounded.

 

He heard Connor shifting behind him, clearing his throat in this nervous gesture that almost made Gavin forget that he wasn't human.

 

"I am sorry," he repeated his words. Was it Gavin's imagination or was his voice just the tiniest bit unsteady?

 

"The fuck are you sorry for?"

 

Silence again, but the tension seemed to dissipate a little.

 

"I can sense you are uncomfortable right now, and it's my fault. Because of what I did earlier. Because of what I am."

 

He sounded so guilty over this, it was making Gavin's head spin and his chest hurt. Fuck.

 

"Back up, back up. How is this your fault? I asked you to profile me. Part of me was arrogant enough to think you wouldn't find anything meaningful to say. And part of me knew you would find something, and I still asked you to it."

 

Connor was laughing now, short and fake and a little bitter.

 

"Of course I found something, Detective. I am a state of the art machine. I was designed to find clues and add them together. And even the absence of clues is a clue in and of itself - like you pointed out at the third crime scene. I learned from that, too. I learned from you."

 

Gavin gulped a little, noticing the odd split between the monotone explanation, the hint of contempt directed at himself and the sudden tone of admiration he took when talking about Gavin's work in the field. It was confusing, disorienting.

 

He subtly adjusted the rear view mirror to look at Connor's reflection. It was like seeing him for the first time.

 

This monstrous, marvelous machine, made of plastic and metal and sophisticated coding - as well as emotions.

 

It was terrifying. Intimidating. If Connor wanted, he could take Gavin out without even raising a finger, just by the power of his analytical program and the things he could unveil.

 

Then why? Why wasn't Gavin scared anymore?

 

Because Connor was looking so lost right now, sinking into the backseat, fidgeting with a coin in his hands. His eyes were closed and his LED was flashing yellow, casting a golden hue on his pale features in the twilight of the car.

 

"I should have known when to stop my analysis earlier," he said, unaware of Gavin's racing thoughts. "No, I did know. But I just kept going. I wanted to -"

 

He stopped, his eyes snapping open, finding Gavin's in the mirror. Gavin felt his heart skip a beat at the intensity of the emotions he found in them, jumbled and unreadable.

 

They never broke the connection their eyes had made.

 

"What did you want, Connor?"

 

He saw Connor take a breath, and another.

 

"I wanted to get to know you. _You_. Not this facade, not the mask you put on."

 

Gavin felt his blood run cold, then hot, heart pounding. His chest felt tight and empty at the same time. There were memories slowly rising to the surface again.

 

He fought them down, lowering his gaze to his trembling hands, breaking the almost-trance he'd been in. He had to stay in the moment. He had to fix this.

 

"I'm sorry," he said, forcing himself to calm down. "I shouldn't have asked you to analyze me. Nothing that happened is your fault and I shouldn't have snapped at you. So if you still want to work with me ... I wouldn't mind that either."

 

He glanced at the mirror again, only to find Connor still looking at him, a bit uncertain, but with the hint of a smile on his lips.

 

"I'd like that, yes."

 

Gavin leaned back in his seat, his shoulders relaxing as he let out a sigh.

 

"Are ten minutes over already?"

 

Connor laughed again, but this time, it was warm and honest, not fake in the slightest.

 

"Yes. We are at the 10:32 mark. Do you want to go, Detective Reed?"

 

He nodded, moving to open the door. Before he did, however, he hesitated, clearing his throat.

 

"I ... Gavin is fine. No need to call me Detective or Reed or anything. You already called me by my first name before, anyway."

 

Connor was silent for a moment before replying.

 

"Alright then, Gavin."

 

And fuck him if he couldn't hear the smile behind those words.


	16. And then, darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright then. Let's see how the case is developing ...

 

Connor was feeling lightheaded. Like the balancing system in his body had stopped working or his artificial breathing didn't do enough to cool him down. But this wasn't any of that.

 

Technically, he was in perfect working order. His diagnostic program confirmed it.

 

Then what he was experiencing was definitely linked to the talk in the car. He was relieved that Gavin didn't harbor any lasting negative feelings against him, due to the incidence in his living room. And he more than appreciated Gavin's honesty and willingness to work with him.

 

But he hadn't missed how suddenly Gavin had brought the conversation to an end either - or how uncomfortable he had been when Connor had told him the truth about wanting to get to know the real him.

Whenever he thought he was getting a glimpse at what was behind those walls, he was met with just another layer. It was ... frustrating, yes.

 

Despite that, Connor hoped him being on a first name basis with Gavin proved that they had gotten closer after all. The thought made him happier than he had anticipated, for reasons he didn't even try to understand. Such complex emotions were still beyond him.

 

He was brought back to reality the instance he entered the abandoned building, a half burnt out skeleton of a former family home.

 

While the walls were still standing, blackened and unstable, the roof and all of the windows were gone, allowing the evening sun to send the last rays of deep red light into what remained of the house.

 

Straight across from the entrance, bathed in said light like blood, Connor could see three bodies. All of them androids, one of which had the skin on their body deactivated, leaving only their exoskeleton exposed.

 

He walked over to them, joining Hank, who was talking to the young, blond officer. He was the one who had found the bodies, according to his conversation with Hank.

Connor recognized him as the same one who had assisted in their interrogation of Leslie Arden, bringing her in and fetching her a drink.

 

Connor nodded politely at him, getting an equally polite nod in return, before he moved on to the victims. He'd leave the gathering of witness information to Hank and focus and what he did best.

 

The scene struck him as odd immediately. There were no traces of human involvement here, none of cleaning up to hide them either.

 

All three androids were the same model, PC200, male. Not only were there more victims now, it seemed the randomness in picking them out had been purposefully avoided. To what end, Connor couldn't say.

 

The bodies were positioned differently from before, as well, the two outer ones lying on their sides, naked, but with undamaged fake skin, making them appear more human at first glance.

 

They were turned to face the one in the middle, which was the only one with his skin completely removed. He had been positioned outstretched on his back like the bodies from the cases before him.

 

Very much unlike the other cases, however, his eyes were missing, leaving damaged mechanical ports in their place.

 

Something about all of this made Connor uncomfortable beyond just the senseless loss of innocent android life. He couldn't quite put his finger on it at first.

 

Connor dropped into a crouch, examining the androids more closely, coming up mostly empty.

 

He ran a quick scan on their serial numbers and immediately found them on the list Markus had given him. There were extensive notes on them, provided by the victims themselves it seemed.

 

All three had awoken together during the Android Revolution, leaving their posts to join Markus' cause.

 

They had expressed an interest in reclaiming their designated positions as police androids at the DPD even after gaining free will, in order to help fight off anti android violence and aid the goal of achieving true peace for androids and humans.

They had already started the application process with the guidance of New Jericho's leadership, sharing their hopes of working in an android friendly environment - Connor had already paved the way for that – only to vanish without a trace.

 

Connor felt a strange emotion inside of himself, similar to both disappointment and sadness. Those three police androids had been robbed of an opportunity, of a future.

 

Those three police androids ...

 

He froze, a realization dawning on him. He felt his own stress level rising, saw the red illumination of his LED on the blackened floor beneath him.

 

"You alright, Connor?"

 

Gavin was kneeling next to him, frowning in worry.

 

"Hello? Anybody home?"

 

"I - I think, I found something," Connor said, voice hollow. "This isn't a normal killing. This is a message. To us."

 

"A message?", Gavin asked warily, getting a little closer to Connor, their shoulders almost touching now. "What kind of message?"

 

Connor let out a shaky breath, pointing towards the victims.

 

"They are all former DPD androids, PC200 models. I think the one in the middle is supposed to represent me, specifically."

 

"What the fuck? Why would you say that?"

 

"I'm the only one of my model still out there, the only android detective, as you've pointed out yourself before," Connor explained. "I suspected they knew about my involvement since at least the third case, the one where they had tried to hide evidence by cleaning the crime scene."

 

Gavin nodded slightly, an unreadable mix of emotions crossing his face. His anxiety was spiking.

 

"They took away everything human about this android before taking his eyes out," he said. "Now that you've pointed that out, it's easy to see what this is."

 

"A threat," Connor concluded. "If we continue like we have, they'll find a way to get back at us, maybe kill us."

 

Shaking his head and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans to hide the tremor of anger or fear, Connor couldn't quite say, Gavin stood up.

 

"Then the game is on, fuckers. If they start threatening us, we've gotta be doing something right. Let's go tell Anderson what you found."

 

Connor got up as well, impressed by Gavin's newly awakened fighting spirit and the determination in his eyes.

 

He watched in fascination as Gavin actually smiled at him and turned towards Hank, who was standing by the door, still talking to the young officer.

 

"Hey, old man! If you're done chatting, we've got something over here."

 

Despite the threat looming over him and the severity of the situation, Connor couldn't help but feel a little hopeful.

 

 

\---

 

 

"This case is so fucked up," Anderson said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes turned towards the monitor that held all of their most important information so far.

 

Gavin had to agree. They had quite a bit of information to sort through, yet nothing to really go on.

 

The location was one link between the crime scenes, but the neighborhood was one of the bigger ones and it was very easy to get to unnoticed from just about any part of the city or from outside of the city limits.

 

They had asked Fowler to implement patrols and checkpoints with the authority to search suspicious vehicles and reprogram police drone routes. However, given their current abysmal personnel count, and how little of that was theoretically available to take on the task requested, this would take time to get off the ground.

 

And time passing meant more victims getting caught up in this.

 

They also didn't know much about the kidnappings as of yet, for example when and where victims were selected and how many people were involved. So they had one kidnapper, but he didn't wanna talk without his lawyer. Which could mean another few days until they'd be able to question him again. Fucker.

 

The fact that whoever was behind this seemed to know more about them for the moment than vice versa was eating at Gavin, making him irritated, restless, fidgety. His fingers were tapping against the table top rapidly.

 

He noticed Hank looking at him with his brows furrowed and forced the movement of his hands to stop.

 

He had to stay calm, so he focused on Connor, who was sitting across from Gavin with his eyes closed, going through the autopsy report of Leslie Arden that had just come in. All in his head and in record time.

 

Gavin felt a sting of _something_ in his chest. A mix of jealousy and the feeling of inadequacy on his part, for all the things he was lacking, compared to a superior machine, he supposed. He was an idiot for not simply being grateful to be able to work faster with Connor's help.

 

He tried to ignore his feelings on the matter and focus on the clues again, but he couldn't find anything to latch onto.

 

Taking off his glasses to rub his eyes, he let out a long sigh. God, he felt so tired again. Maybe he should get another coffee? His fifth or sixth or seventh, he'd stopped counting after the second one.

 

Connor chose the exact moment Gavin was about to get up to open his eyes again. His LED flashed from yellow to red for a brief second to yellow again.

 

That didn't look like he had any good news for them.

 

"Did you find anything?" Anderson asked, turning his full attention toward Connor.

 

"The report says Leslie Arden died of a heart attack, triggered by her seizure, and kidney failure, connected to her long term drug use. Her body was too weak to stabilize, even with extended reanimation attempts. The toxicology report came back negative for foreign interference like common poisons."

 

"Sounds like another dead end," Anderson said, rubbing the crease that was forming between his brows. "But this still feels like one hell of a coincidence, for our one witness to drop dead before she could tell us anything."

 

That was true, as well as frightening. Gavin didn't believe in coincidences like that. Something was off.

 

"Anything unusual?" he asked.

 

Connor nodded.

 

"Yes, in fact. There is no mention of drug residue in her blood, which I find odd. Judging from the sample I took at the crime scene, she was under the influence of quite a high dose. It should take more than just five to six hours to get rid of that completely."

 

"What the hell?"

 

From everything Gavin knew, Red Ice was detectable in a person's blood for at least 24 hours and to up to 72 hours, depending on amount, test used and a variety of other individual factors. Even longer in urine.

The new version would probably just be more potent, given the reactions of the first 'testers'.

 

"That can't be right," Anderson said, a dark look on his face. "There's something going on here and I don't like it one bit. We should request another report, tell them to look for drugs specifically."

 

Again, Gavin had to agree.

 

"The reports of the other two victims aren't finished yet, right?"

 

"Unfortunately, I have not received any notice on those," Connor said. "I'll keep you informed if something comes in."

 

Awfully long time for two reports ... Maybe it was just due to them being understaffed as well. At least he hoped that's what it was.

 

They fell silent for a moment, brooding over this new information, until Hank got up, sighing.

 

"I don't know about you, but I'm gonna head home, it's almost midnight. I need some sleep."

 

Already midnight? Fuck, he was right. And sleep sounded so good right now ... He could barely keep his eyes open.

 

"You need a ride home?" Hank offered, catching Gavin off guard with his casual tone. Like it wasn't a big deal. Like he didn't have to think twice about being kind to Gavin. Weird.

 

"What? Oh no, thanks."

 

He found himself smiling at the other man before he could hide it. Shit, his stone cold facade was no longer just slipping around his temporary partners, it was practically obliterated.

 

"Tina's still around, I saw her headed towards the archives a minute ago. Maybe I'll grab a bite to eat with her and then ask her to drive me home, I'm starving."

 

Hank just shook his head in contemplation.

 

"If I was a few years younger, I would ask to join you. I'm getting too old for this. I am too tired to even crave food right now, and I am starving as well."

 

"I'll make you something light at home," Connor said. "And I'll drive. Sleep deprivation is as bad as driving under the influence."

 

"Yeah, yeah. See you tomorrow, Reed."

 

"You too, old man," Gavin replied, grinning.

 

"Don't push it!"

 

Gavin just grinned wider. He glanced over to Connor, only to find the android already looking at him, eyes all soft. It made Gavin's heart skip a beat.

 

What was that about?

 

"Goodnight, Gavin."

 

"I – Goodnight, Connor."

 

They left. And Gavin just sat there, waiting for Tina to come out of the archive. He caught himself almost dozing off in his chair a while later when his phone buzzed against his thigh.

 

A new message?

 

He took out the device to find a text sent by Steven.

 

 

**Got something. Come to my place. NOW.**

 

 

There was a photo attached. A little package of red powder and a small blue vial filled with some liquid. Something was written on the wrapping, but Gavin couldn't make out the words.

 

Still, he instantly recognized what he was looking at.

 

Gavin jumped to his feet quick enough to almost topple the chair he was sitting on, grabbing his jacket, sliding his phone into the inside pocket and checking if he had his gun holstered.

 

He thought about asking Connor and Hank to go with him, but Steven liked to be discreet about his business and Gavin's partners deserved some time to rest after today. He decided to text them from the cab, just to let them know he might have a lead and where he was going.

 

Fuck, he was going soft. When had he ever agreed to that, huh?

 

A few moments later, he was walking down the hall towards the exit, almost colliding with another officer he totally hadn't seen in the darkness of the hallway. Maybe that guy was catching a short break to keep himself awake. Gavin just nodded at him before pushing the doors open and stepping outside.

 

The night air was a bit chilly for June, a surprisingly harsh wind blowing in Gavin's face, making him raise his shoulders to shield himself against it.

 

He moved towards to a taxi stand, taking in his surroundings as he walked.

 

The streets were already empty, except for a few parked cars along the sidewalk, which wasn't surprising with it being the middle of the night. Most shops were closed, except for some 24 hour diners and stores further along the street.

 

Gavin had barely turned the corner when he heard shuffling behind him and the sound of fast steps against the pavement. He felt a shiver crawl down his spine, instincts kicking in as he spun around, gun already in hand. He was too slow.

 

The last thing he saw as something crashed against his skull with enough force to split his skin open, sending lightning strikes of white hot pain across his vision, was the silhouette of a man towering over him.

 

And then, darkness.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse.


	17. Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everybody ready?

 

Connor found himself sitting at the kitchen table at 2:41 a.m., lost in thought.

 

Hank was sleeping in his bedroom, his soft snores just loud enough to carry through the thin walls of the apartment.

 

And it seemed Sumo was asleep was well, curled up on his dog bed, his legs kicking like he was running in his dreams.

 

No sound was heard from outside. No cars, no music, no animals, no neighbors. It felt lonely, like only Connor was awake right now, even though rationally speaking that of course wasn't the case. There were bound to be people and creatures out and about, even at this hour.

 

Feelings were not exactly rational, he knew. Maybe that's why he was a little lost right now, pondering in his head how fast he'd seen Gavin change and how much he ... enjoyed that. Him opening up, he meant. Actually smiling instead of putting on a sarcastic face or sneering at Connor's every move.

 

He should be happy.

 

Happy to have gained a partner. A colleague who was willing to work with Connor. Someday possibly a friend, if he dared hope for that.

 

Then why was there this tightness in his chest? This mix of feelings he couldn't pinpoint?

 

He thought of Gavin on the ground, barely able to breathe through the sudden panic.

 

They still hadn't talked about that. They hadn't talked about a lot of things Connor wanted to know about. Things he wanted to share about himself. Thoughts he wanted to make known. Places he wanted to go. Stuff to try out, to sample, to see, to hear, to experience. Together.

 

He was getting carried away here, he thought, but he couldn't stop. How strange.

 

He wondered if Gavin had gotten home safely. Or if he was still out with Officer Chen.

 

Should he text him? Wasn't that a bit ... strange for a colleague to do? Then again, their whole relationship was strange, if he thought about it.

 

A little extra weirdness wouldn't make that much of a difference, the told himself. Right?

 

He closed his eyes, going through his registry, pulling up Gavin's number in an instant messenger, only to tab out of it again immediately.

 

What was he doing? He didn't even know what to write.

 

Connor stood up, shaking his head and moving over to the couch. He flopped unto the cushions, letting out a sound that was between a deep breath and the hint of a laugh.

 

Really, just what was he doing?

 

He stared up at the ceiling, still thinking about Gavin, if he was asleep, safe and sound in his bed. Why was he thinking that?

 

He clicked his tongue, pulling up the instant messenger again, hesitantly.

 

**I hope you got home safely.**

 

He sent it before he could change his mind again, watching with closed eyes as the text was delivered, but remained unread. So he probably was asleep.

 

_See you tomorrow, then_ , he thought, just as he was slipping into idle mode.

 

 

\---

 

 

He did not see Gavin at work.

 

Hank and Connor weren't even that early, having stopped for gas and a coffee - despite Connor reminding him that there was a coffee machine at work.

 

Hank seemed to be convinced that there was a difference between coffee from a coffee shop and coffee from a "shitty piece of junk", as he'd put it. Connor didn't even pretend to understand where the difference was, other than sugar content and price, but he wasn't human, so it wasn't his place to judge.

 

He had to admit, he'd been tempted to buy a coffee for Gavin as well, but he'd stopped himself. He didn't even know how the man liked his coffee, and getting that wrong was apparently worse than not getting any at all - again, according to Hank.

 

He'd been determined to ask Gavin in person, but Gavin's desk was empty.

 

It was unlike him to arrive so late. Then again, he'd been very tired. For days now. Maybe he was finally catching up on sleep?

 

Connor did his best to push down his worry and just return to his own desk.

 

He stopped mid walk as he spotted Officer Chen and Officer Miller leaning against a wall, chatting with each other.

 

Maybe asking when Gavin had gotten home wouldn't hurt. To estimate when he was most likely to arrive.

 

He walked over to them, smiling.

 

"Good morning, Officer Chen, Officer Miller."

 

"Connor!" Officer Miller greeted him, smiling broadly. "How is working with Gavin going? He's not giving you too much trouble, is he?"

 

Connor shook his head, pleasantly surprised by the warm greeting. His human colleagues were usually very reserved.

 

"No, actually. Working with him has been a challenge at first, but I think we have improved our relationship significantly. I appreciate him as a partner, as does Hank. Though I doubt he would admit that so readily."

 

He was met with stunned silence, until Officer Chen burst into a fit of laughter.

 

"Oh my god, this is amazing! Let me just check to see if there are any pigs flying outside."

 

Connor was about to ask what she meant when Officer Miller put a hand on his shoulder, grinning.

 

"Whatever you did to make Gavin act like less of an asshole towards you and Lieutenant Anderson, let me just say: thank you. I care about him, a lot, but his cold and angry persona gets old real fast. And I didn't expect you of all people to get him to lighten up a little. And please, call me Chris."

 

Connor wasn't quite sure what to make of that, but he decided to take it as a compliment.

 

"Thank you, Chris. And speaking of Detective Reed, I wanted to ask Officer Chen something."

 

"Tina's fine," she said, red faced from laughing and smiling. "What did you want to ask?"

 

"I was wondering, when did Detective Reed get home yesterday?"

 

Tina looked at him, confused, before exchanging a questioning gaze with Chris.

 

"What do you mean? Last I saw him, he was with you, sporting some nice specs. How did you get him to do that in public, by the way? I never even knew he had glasses! Vain asshole, isn't he?"

 

Connor did his best not to look alarmed at learning that Gavin had not met up with Tina, but with how rapidly his stress levels were rising, it wasn't easy. His LED was probably giving him away, even if he did his best not to let it show on his face.

 

"Hey, are you alright?" Chris asked, clearly concerned. "Did something happen?"

 

Doing the best he could to remain calm, Connor took a breath. And another. He was overthinking this, was all.

 

"Gavin, he ... he didn't arrive with his car yesterday," Connor explained. "So we offered him a ride. But he refused, saying he wanted to get something to eat with Officer Chen before going home."

 

"I ... I'm sorry," Tina said, confused, "he was gone when I came back from the archive. I didn't see him leave."

 

"Maybe he got tired of waiting and went home on his own?" Chris proposed. He didn't sound like he himself was convinced of this.

 

"Have you tried calling him?" Tina asked, her eyes locked unto Connor's LED. He could see the red pulse reflected in her irises.

 

No, he hadn't. So he did, steadying himself before trying to connect to Gavin's number - and failing. He only got the mailbox, a monotone voice telling him that the person he was trying to reach was currently unavailable.

 

His phone was off. That wasn't right. He never had his phone off, he needed to be available for work. He hadn't even turned it off when he had desperately tried to not interact with anyone, opting to just ignore it instead of making himself unreachable.

 

What if it was worse this time? What if he needed help? What if ...

 

Connor was suddenly shaking, just barely, but he could feel the tremor in his system, traveling from his spine to his limbs. He clenched his hands into fists to hide it.

 

Without another word, he turned around, walking up the Hank in a few brisk steps.

 

"Can I have your car keys?"

 

"What? Yeah, sure, but why -"

 

Connor snatched them from the desk before Hank could even finish his question.

 

"I need to check on something."

 

Hank grabbed his arm, keeping him from just running off.

 

"Wait, hold on, what something?"

 

"Gavin," Connor said, louder than he had intended to. "I can't reach him and he didn't meet up with Officer Chen yesterday. I'm going to his place!"

 

He could see a few heads turn towards him from the corner of his eyes, curious about his sudden outburst. Connor didn't care. He felt his intense worry turn into fear, making his muscles tense and the flow of his Thirium quicken.

 

Hank was about to say something, but he stopped himself, taking note of Connor's expression and his rapidly blinking LED. He sighed.

 

"Shouldn't I come with you?"

 

Connor shook his head.

 

"No. You should stay here, and call me the second he arrives while I'm away, okay? If he arrives, that is."

 

"Okay, son," Hank said. "I will. It's probably nothing, but I won't stop you. Follow your instincts."

 

He let go of Connor, giving him a nod.

 

"Go ahead, I'll wait here. If you need me, call and I'll come to you immediately."

 

"Thank you, Hank," Connor said softly as he turned around, all but running out of the building.

 

 

\---

 

 

Connor had tried to use the car ride to calm down, only to fail miserably. In fact, he had probably broken a few traffic laws.

 

He didn't care.

 

He just jumped out of the car and took off running towards Gavin's apartment, taking two steps at once and not even stopping to calm down before he slammed his fist against the door repeatedly.

 

To no avail. There was no answer, no shuffling from inside, no sound of steps approaching, no voice asking him what the hell he was up to. Just silence.

 

He took a deep breath, unsure of what to do. Should he ...? But what if it was nothing and Gavin took his actions badly?

 

Connor was too scared of the possibility of Gavin needing help and him doing nothing to care about possible repercussions. If it really was nothing, he'd make it up to Gavin somehow.

 

So he took a few steps back, determined, before launching a kick against the door, close to the handle. The impact made the lock give away, causing the wood to splinter and the door to spring open. It slammed against the wall inside with a loud thud.

 

Connor didn't hesitate for a second before heading inside, disregarding the damage with only the hint of guilt.

 

He checked the bathroom first, as it was the closest room. Then the kitchen and the living room, calling out for Gavin and getting no answer in return.

 

He tried the bedroom last, opening the door to find a mostly empty room, dominated by a king sized bed covered with a gray comforter. It looked untouched, neatly made.

 

Connor found himself moving forward, putting a hand on the mattress. No leftover body heat, not a trace of someone sleeping there.

 

Gavin wasn't here.

 

Maybe he hadn't been all night.

 

Despite Hank's promise to call as soon as Gavin arrived, Connor found himself clutching that last straw as he dialed his phone number, hoping for some good news.

 

Gavin would be there, would talk to Connor, explain how his phone stopped working or something of that sort, get angry about the door. And Connor would apologize, order a replacement immediately.

And one day, they'd laugh about this, about how a silly android had let his feelings get the better of him, working himself into a frenzy and breaking down a door without needing to.

They'd laugh about his overreaction to a situation with a harmless, simple explanation.

 

Hank picked up on the first ring.

 

"Did you find him, son? Is everything okay?"

 

Connor felt his legs start to shake, barely holding him upright. Nothing was okay.

 

"He's not here," he heard himself say, like his voice was coming from far away. "Hank, I ... I don't think he went home at all yesterday. Nobody has seen him, his phone is off. And with that threat against us ..."

 

There was a pause, then a curse at the other end of the line.

 

"Shit. Shit! I'm letting Fowler know. Do you need me to come over? I can call a cab or ask someone -"

 

"I'm okay," Connor lied. "I'm okay. I'm coming back to the precinct now."

 

He ended the call before Hank could say anything else.

 

He felt something rise in his chest, something like the urge to scream. But he didn't give into it.

 

Instead, he just walked out of the apartment, pulling the broken door shut as best as he could.

 

What he needed to do right now was keep a level head. Put everything he had into finding Gavin. He could deal with his feelings later.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of Gavin ... You're gonna have to wait some more to find out what happened to him.


	18. Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... I hope everyone is still with me. If any of you have wondered why this story is named Electric Blue, this chapter has one of the many reasons why.

 

Pain and darkness and the hum of electricity, like the sound old neon lights made.

 

Gavin woke up in a daze, disoriented, scared, without a memory of how he had gotten ... wherever the hell he was. He couldn't see a goddamn thing.

 

He couldn't really move, either, his arms were tied up behind his back, as he noticed. Handcuffs, and not the cheap kind either, from how solid they felt. Getting out of those with his arms behind his back would be tricky. Not that he wouldn't try his damnedest anyway. He was stubborn like that.

 

At least his legs were free, allowing him to push himself into a sitting position - a move that made his head spin as soon as he tried it.

 

Fuck. He felt like puking. Was he concussed? Probably. There was something sticky on his face. Blood?

 

He was so dizzy and tired, but he knew better than to give into the urge to just close his eyes. He needed to work through this, find a way to escape.

 

He tried to listen for anything that pointed to him not being alone, but all he could make out was his own breathing, not counting the electricity in the background or the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. No steps, no movement, nothing that suggested that whoever had taken him was around.

 

Good.

 

He let himself drop on his back, pushing down the feeling of nausea and working his cuffed arms towards the back of his thighs, trying to use the momentum of lifting his knees towards his chin to bring the handcuffs to the front of his body, over his legs.

 

With the darkness and how dizzy he was, it took him several attempts to get it to work, with him almost tangling himself in the chain of the handcuffs before succeeding.

 

He took a moment to just lie on his back, feeling the exertion of his actions on his body. He was panting, fighting the need to vomit and the exhaustion creeping into his bones.

 

But he'd gained an advantage for now and the thought made him grin in spite of the situation. The bastard who had gotten the better of him had underestimated him. He'd come to regret that.

 

If Gavin had to go down, he'd go down fighting.

 

Still, he wished it wouldn't come to that. With how weak he felt, he wasn't exactly convinced his chances were the best.

 

He allowed himself a moment to just lie there, staring into the blinding blackness, thinking.

 

How long ago had he been taken? He felt thirsty, but not enough that it made him think he had been out for more than a day. A couple hours maybe?

 

Had his partners already figured out he'd gone missing? Were they at least worried?

He thought about Connor. About how he had taken care of Gavin, going out of his way to make sure he wasn't rotting at home when he hadn't showed up for work. Yeah, he probably was onto this whole messed up kidnapping situation. 

 

Speaking of the kidnapping ... What did the bastard - or bastards maybe? - want with him, anyway? If this was related to the investigation, why wasn't he dead yet? Just shooting him in the head and dropping him in a ditch somewhere would have been way more effective. If they were scared about leaving evidence, they could have just tried hiding his body somewhere it couldn't be found immediately.

 

Would've been more simple. Not that Gavin was complaining about being alive. It just didn't make much sense to him why they would bother with this.

 

Unless this wasn't about just getting rid of him to make their lives easier.

 

Oh fuck.

 

He was right. This wasn't about taking him out of the race, he realized. This had to be about something else, something more complicated.

 

Maybe they wanted to ... set a warning example with him? Make him suffer and show his colleagues, his Captain, his partners what to expect in the future.

 

Yeah, he hated that idea ... All the more reason to get out. Fast.

 

He groaned, rolling onto his side, trying to see anything, but there was no light here, none at all. He couldn't even make out any outlines, no hint of brightness seeping in underneath a door.

 

Shit.

 

To be honest, he didn't do too well with this impenetrable darkness. He could hear whispers in it that weren't real. Taunting him, reminding him of things he would rather forget.

 

Gavin took a deep breath to steady himself. He allowed his mind to focus on other things, his thoughts shifted to warmer, calming things. To images of Chris laughing and Tina teasing him. Hank taking care of him in the bathroom, with a face like thunder and a voice full of concern. And Connor, eyes soft and smile a million times softer still, his hand on Gavin's shoulder, grounding him. Whispering into his ear.

 

_You're going to be okay._

 

He let out a laugh that sounded broken in his own ears closed his eyes for a moment. In the suffocating darkness, it didn't make any difference. 

 

_Fuck._

 

The absence of light was pressing in on him, so firmly he could almost feel it, so he kept holding onto his memories.  It was all he could do.

 

 

\---

 

 

Connor was sifting through footage of security drones surrounding the precinct in record speed. There had to be something. Anything. A glimpse of where Gavin had gone. A single frame of him leaving through the main exit was all he had found, the drone swerving to change course at that exact moment.

 

That couldn't be it. That. Could. Not. Be. It.

 

"Connor."

 

Had someone tried locating Gavin's phone yet? It was off now, but maybe the tracking data would show when and where the signal had disappeared. It was something to work with. Something was better than absolutely nothing. He put in a request for it through the network, but this could take a while to go through authorization. He couldn't just wait.

 

"Connor."

 

He should go check around the plaza, look for clues. Gavin probably went for a cab, since he didn't bring his car with him. Or did he take the bus? No, that seemed unlikely.

For whatever reason he had decided to leave and abandon his plans of getting something to eat, it must have been important, possibly time sensitive. Depending on the irregular schedule for night buses would have been a disadvantage. Gavin would have taken the fastest, most direct route.

 

"Hey, Connor."

 

Unless, of course, the location he had been headed for was within walking distance. He should pull up a map and look for likely areas of interest around this part of the city.

 

"Goddammit, Connor!"

 

He snapped out of his rapidly spiraling thoughts and was met with a familiar set of eyes staring at him, concerned. Hank.

 

"Talk to me, son. If you try and do everything on your own, you're gonna blow a fuse or something."

 

Connor shook his head, pointedly avoiding to look at Hank's face.

 

"I am perfectly capable of handling stressful situations with minimal risk to my processing units. And I do not have such a thing as a fuse."

 

Hank sighed, putting his hand on Connor's own, stopping him from fidgeting with his coin nervously.

 

"Son. I know this is difficult for you, and don't even try to tell me it's not. I always know when you're lying, remember?"

 

His voice was so gentle, it made Connor's breath hitch in his chest.

 

"I'm okay," he said without thinking, drawing yet another sigh from Hank.

 

"See, there it is. The lie," Hank stated softly. "I don't really understand what this is that's going on between you and Reed, to be honest, I'm not sure I wanna know. But you care about him ... and he hasn't been too much of an asshole recently. So I'll do everything I can to find him."

 

Connor's chest was so tight. And there was a sensation in his eyes he hadn't felt before. Heat, wetness.

 

"Please, let me help you."

 

He wasn't crying, not yet, but this was the closest he'd come to it.

 

"Thank you, Hank."

 

Hank was laughing now, quietly, pulling Connor in for a quick hug. "Don't thank me for that, son. It's the least I can do. Come on, tell me what you've got and maybe we put our wits together to come up with some more ideas."

 

Connor felt the ghost of a smile on his face as he nodded. He - they would find Gavin, no matter what.

 

"Uhm, excuse me?"

 

A voice Connor had heard before. He and Hank both turned around, finding themselves face to face with a very flustered looking Asian man. Steven. Gavin's contact.

 

"You're Connor! We've met, remember? In front of my store, with Reed. When that guy attacked you."

 

Connor simply bowed his head in acknowledgment, gesturing for Steven to sit down. There was this faint hope again, sending new energy through his exhausted system, the hope of a lead.

 

"God, I can't believe that I actually came here, I'm not too fond of the police, but I was worried."

 

"Worried?" Hank asked, leaning a little closer.

 

Steven looked at him with a hint of fear in his eyes. Ah, right. Gavin had said something about him being a bit paranoid around strangers.

 

"So, who are you, old man?"

 

"He's my partner," Connor explained, trying to keep the conversation on track. "He works alongside Detective Reed and myself. You said you came because you were worried?"

 

Steven hesitated a moment, then he nodded, pulling something out of his pocket.

 

"I texted Reed a bit past midnight about something I found, a new drug. I asked him to come over, but he never arrived. He's never done that before."

 

"That's because he vanished last night, kid. Nobody has seen him."

 

No. He didn't vanish. He had been taken, Connor was sure of it now, even more than he had been before. There hadn't been an accident that would fit Gavin's profile last night. And he wouldn't have just gone somewhere else in secret when he had a clue right in front of him; he wasn't stupid. Reckless, yes, but also bright and knowledgable, experienced in his work.

 

And these drugs ...

 

Connor reached for the package to examine it, allowing Hank to fill Steven in on what little they knew.

 

His attention was directed at the new piece of evidence in front of him. The typical crystalline form of Red Ice, the color a little different from a usual batch. Darker, richer, a lot like human blood.

 

There was a small vial right next to it in the bag, filled with a thick, blue liquid.

 

Something was written on the package in barely readable letters, sloppy, human handwriting.

 

_Electric Blue._

 

 

\---

 

 

Gavin stifled a groan as his skin gave out, bruised and agitated from his attempts at breaking the chain between the handcuffs. He'd managed to bend the metal a bit, he could feel it when he ran his fingers over it, but by now, his wrists hurt like they were on fire.

 

Fuck the bastard who had brought him here, and fuck everyone else involved.

 

This would have been way easier if they had left him with his belongings. There was a metal zipper on his wallet, one that was flat and small enough to work cuffs like theses open with. But they hadn't even left his shoes or jacket on. He had his jeans, pockets empty, and his T-shirt. Nothing else.

 

He felt some blood running down his arms in the darkness, hot liquid against cold skin. God, it was freezing in here, like an underground bunker with air conditioning running at full blast.

 

Possibly exactly what this was, with how little there was in terms of outside noise or light.

 

Gavin was shaking by now, lips quivering. He couldn't feel his toes anymore, but he had no time to care about that.

 

Just a little more. Just a little more effort and the metal would give out, allowing him to use his arms. Just a moment longer of ignoring the pain in his wrists and the way the muscles in his upper body ached.

 

He put his hands together and then pulled them apart in a swift movement, biting down on his lips to stop himself from screaming as the edges of the handcuffs cut into his raw flesh.

 

The chains rattled against each other, still intact.

 

Fuck. One more time.

 

_Don't think about how much it hurts._

 

He did it again. And again. On the final try, he didn't quite manage to keep quiet, letting out a sound somewhere between a curse and a sob.

 

But it worked. The chain broke.

 

Something small and metal hit the ground and suddenly, his arms were free. He could move again. He could hear his blood dripping to the floor, and he just didn't give a fuck.

 

Now he only needed to find an escape route, get out of here and call for backup.

 

He got up, steadying himself against a wall, taking careful steps forward, his fingers searching for a door, a window, a vent, a pipe to use as a weapon, anything that might be able to help him get out of here.

 

He was still dizzy, but he would manage. He wasn't helpless.

 

Yet there was nothing at first. Empty walls, no pipes or vents or windows, nothing, at least not anywhere he could reach. Until his fingers hit a solid, metal surface. He ran his hands over it, trying to understand what he was facing here.

 

A door. With no handle, no lock, no hinges he could feel. Just the smooth metal plate, a few inches deep.

 

A security door, probably key card activated.

 

Fuck.

 

Fuck, no.

 

Gavin pressed his back to the wall, sliding down as realization hit.

 

He couldn't get out.

 

There was no way he could just force his way through this door. And he hadn't found an alternative.

 

There was no way out.

 

He felt his breathing speed up as the fear crept back into his mind, but he forced himself to stay calm. He had to keep a level head. He had to wait. For either the bastard to come back or for someone to find him and get him out of here.

 

He just had to wait. Be prepared for whatever happened next. Catch the bastard off guard as soon as the door opened.

 

At least his hands were free.

 

At least he could fight if he had to.

 

At least he could try with all his might to escape, given an opportunity.

 

That had to account for something.

 

So he sat in the nothingness surrounding him, clinging to this sliver of hope he had. Anxious, yet prepared to do anything to get out. Anything.

 

He was going to be okay. Right?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right?


	19. Electric Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Look at that, we are getting closer to the end of part 1. I am slightly terrified of that thought and at the same time curious for your reactions. But I want to push on. My birthday is on Monday and I want to put out a certain chapter before that ... Enough with that, enjoy the chapter!

 

"Connor, what the fuck are you doing now?"

 

Connor, of course, was busy taking out a small amount of crystals to sample them, just to confirm this was indeed the new type of Red Ice they had encountered before.

 

It was and yet, it wasn't. The chemical structure had been changed slightly, possibly to counter the extreme side effects and self destructive tendencies the older version had caused.

 

Still, from his analysis, this was a strong stimulant with highly addictive and dangerous properties. Prolonged exposure to high doses would likely result in a corroding blood system and, in the worst case, organ failure. Much like the original Red Ice, except with a stronger impact on the nervous system.

 

He was only partly aware of Steven's fascinated and Hank's grossed out reaction when he turned to the vial, cracking it open to put a drop of liquid on his tongue.

 

His processors went into overdrive as soon as he did, his LED turning deep red.

 

What - ?

 

The information and horror of realizing what he was dealing with were overwhelming. So much so that his body just locked up, unable to move.

 

"Connor? What's happening? Talk to me! Connor!"

 

Hank was leaning over Connor now, one hand on his face, another on his arm.

 

"I - This is Thirium," Connor said, slowly regaining control. His words were met with a look of confusion turning into disgust. "This is the filtered and chemically enhanced Thirium of at least five android models mixed together."

 

"What the fuck?" Hank asked, staring at the vial in Connors grip like it was a bomb about to go off. "Is that what's left of our victims? Why would anyone do that?"

 

That was what his processors were working on now, reconstructing how the Thirium might react with the new version of Red Ice. The vial being attached to the package suggested that it was meant to be ingested additionally.

 

Perhaps ... Yes.

 

"This Thirium is reactive with the new type of Red Ice, enhancing the high the drug induces," he explained. "They've filtered out most of what makes drinking Thirium unpleasant, too. It's still toxic in large doses, but this amount would be safe to consume."

 

"So they take blue blood from living androids to turn it into this shit, only to pimp up their drug some more? Couldn't they do that by mixing the Thirium directly with the Red Ice?"

 

Connor found himself nodding. He'd thought of that as well. It would actually be more effective that way. But so would using fresh batches of unused Thirium instead of the blood of living androids.

 

"I think ... I think this is a power play," he said, slowly, adding up the pieces in his mind. "I believe they tested the drug out in the open and left the bodies of our first victims to be found deliberately."

 

"You mean they wanted us to know they were there?" Hank asked, his voice a bit higher than usual, the new information was clearly getting to him. "Whatever the fuck for?"

 

"Anti android bullshit," Steven said before Connor could answer. He was leaning back in his chair, like he had already forgotten all about his dislike for police stations. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? It's pretty obvious. They wanna kill androids and making profit is a bonus."

 

Well, Connor had wondered how someone so young and, frankly, mildly strange could be one of Gavin's trusted sources. Apparently, the guy was quite clever, and he had gotten his hands on a new, formerly unknown drug pretty fast and without drawing attention to himself.

 

Connor would have been impressed, had his mind not been preoccupied.

 

He had to let the Captain know. And Markus.

 

But Gavin ... There had to be a connection to Gavin.

 

Only, if there was, he couldn't find any. He was reasonably sure that the ones behind the drugs and android killings had taken him. But where? And to what end?

 

A thought entered Connor's mind. One so disturbing, it made his stress level rise dangerously high. Warnings flashed across his vision, his systems going into alert mode immediately.

 

 

 **80%** ... This wasn't about Gavin, not really.

 

 **84%** ... This was about the warning they'd received. Gavin had loudly and proudly disregarded it, calling it a game, showing off his confidence in solving the case.

 

 **86%** ... But how did they know about this? Had there been recording devices? If so, Connor had missed them. Then it was his fault.

 

 **89%** ... He hadn't been careful enough. And Gavin ... Gavin hadn't called or even texted Connor to let him know he had gotten new information on the case. Didn't he trust him after all?

 

 **92%** ... And now - now Gavin was gone and Connor had no idea where he was or if he was even alive at this point. Whoever had taken him, they were going to make an example out of him, Connor was sure of it.

 

 **97%** ... Perhaps it was too late already.

 

 

No.

 

He couldn't think like that. If he gave up now, there was no hope left. He had to keep a level head. This wasn't about him. He had to calm down.

 

"Connor, are you alright?"

 

He wanted Hank to know he was okay. He really wanted to just say it. Say he was alright and not to worry.

 

He didn't. Couldn't. And somehow, Hank still understood.

 

"Come on, I'll let Jeffrey know about what we found so far. You lean back, calm down a bit. And then we'll see about what we can find out about Gavin."

 

Connor simply nodded, closing his eyes for a moment, focusing on his breathing, the flow of air filling his artificial lungs, cooling his stressed systems.

 

He was startled by a notification appearing in the darkness behind his eyelids. The request for accessing the location data of Gavin's phone.

 

 

**Request denied. Please refer the inquiry to a super** **ior.**

 

 

This had to be a joke.

 

Why would they deny his request? There was a life on the line. He didn't have the time to ask Fowler to put in the request for him.

 

The longer he waited, the more likely it became that they would be too late.

 

Gavin had been missing for almost ten hours now; and Connor didn't expect his kidnappers to wait long enough to risk exposure until they put whatever plans they had into action.

 

The answer had to be here. And if not the answer, then a clue he could use to narrow down the search.

 

_Think, Connor, think._

 

Of course.

 

It wasn't perfect, far from it, but it was something, the only thing he could try.

 

He almost jumped out of his chair, surprising Steven, who was still sitting there for some reason, now staring at Connor questioningly.

 

"What's gotten into you?" Steven asked, a spark in his eyes. "Did you have an idea? One we could find Reed with?"

 

Connor would have smiled, had he not been so tense. Perhaps Steven was just as worried about Gavin as he himself was.

 

"I'm not sure yet," Connor said. "I was denied access to the network to pinpoint the last known location of Gavin's phone, but there's something I find significant."

 

He brought up a map on his monitor, marking the locations the android victims had been found and where Connor had been attacked by Lonville.

 

"Now where did you get the drugs?" he asked. "Be as precise as possible."

 

Steven got up, stopping next to the map to point at an alley in a third neighborhood, much more lively than the other two, but incredibly close to the location of his shop. Made sense to sell drugs at a place one would be able to find customers.

 

Connor connected the dots, marking off an area he calculated was likely the main area of interest.

 

"I think whoever we are up against is active around here. They are probably using the abandoned state of this area to remain unnoticed."

 

"It's a guess. That doesn't tell us for sure Reed was brought there," Steven said. "Besides, the neighborhoods around these parts are quite big."

 

"It's all we have to go on, so it's our best bet" Connor explained, spurning on his processors to analyze the data they had better, faster. There had to be something, another clue to look for. Anything.

 

His gaze fell on the package of drugs and the vial of filtered Thirium.

 

"Anyone can cook up Red Ice in a well stocked basement, but the vials of Thirium are a different story ... Our culprits would need a secure place, one with ventilation, areas suited for working with dangerous chemicals and enough space for machinery to pull this off. Far enough away from residential areas to not accidentally draw any attention from the public or police patrols. The neighborhood might be largely abandoned, but there are still people and androids living there, especially the homeless population."

 

"A factory or laboratory then," Steven concluded. "Maybe an abandoned hospital. But that still leaves over a dozen places or so where he could be."

 

Connor was confident, despite the odds stacked against them. He didn't have the time to check all those places alone. But he wouldn't have to.

 

He got up.

 

"Go home, Steven, this is not a job for you. But be careful and stay in touch, just in case."

 

Steven didn't put up as much of a fight as Connor had expected, simply letting out a disappointed sigh before shrugging.

 

"I'm not brave enough for this rescue bullshit anyway," he said. "Do tell me as soon as you find Reed, alright? He saved my life once. He might act like an asshole most of the time, but that doesn't mean he's really a bad person."

 

Connor nodded, smiling for the first time since Gavin had gone missing. Then he turned around and briskly walked over to Captain Fowler's office, where Hank was still engaged in conversation.

 

He didn't bother knocking, instead he just stormed inside, only half aware of the surprised glances he got.

 

"I need all the police units we can muster up within an hour. And I request permission to ask New Jericho for assistance in information gathering."

 

"What is this all about?" Fowler asked, his strict tone of voice unable to hide the curiosity in his eyes, or the hope.

 

"I might have a lead, but I need to figure out possible locations - and I need help from New Jericho for that, or else we might be too late."

 

Fowler was silent for a moment, putting his hands together, thinking.

 

"I'm not sure even I can authorize letting New Jericho take part in the investigation on a detective's disappearance. Especially within just one hour," he said, causing Connor's Thirium pump to stutter with the stress and fear piling up in his system. "But ... if there just so happens to be an investigation at New Jericho into locations related to their missing population ..."

 

He didn't finish his sentence, and he didn't need to. The relief was so great, Connor felt his knees buckle from the tension his muscles released.

 

"Thank you," he said, finding Fowler smiling for a second before his expression turned serious again. He did care greatly about the men and women working under him, it seemed.

 

Connor could do this, he could find Gavin in time. After all, he wasn't alone in this.

 

 

\---

 

 

When the door opened, flooding the room with dim light for the first time, Gavin was prepared.

 

He didn't waste a second launching himself at the person stepping into the room, clearly looking for him.

 

And for a moment, he thought he had a chance. He really did. He knew what to do, where to focus his attention.

 

He was on top of the guy, bringing him into a choke-hold, all his strength put into this one attack, this one openining.

 

Then he felt something cool pressing against the skin of his stomach, where his shirt had ridden up during the fight.

 

Before he could think about what it was, his whole world exploded into pain. It shot into his body like venomous fangs, piercing and hot, sending flashes of red and white across his vision.

 

He found himself on the floor, writhing, but otherwise almost completely paralyzed, unable to speak or breathe or get up or defend himself from the kick to his face, bruising his cheek, just barely missing his teeth.

 

There was blood on his tongue. Iron and salt.

 

He gasped, coughed, gasped again.

 

The man was looming over him now, satisfied. He was laughing, a high pitched sound muffled by ... something.

 

A mask. White nothingness and clear blue eyes, almost unnaturally bright, but decidedly human. There were popped vessels in the white of his eyes, angry red.

Possibly from Gavin's attack, possibly from something else.

 

"This is going to be fun," he said, the voice soft and feminine. Not a guy, a woman.

 

Now that he was looking at her, he could see how much smaller she was than him. Smaller than the man who had rendered Gavin unconscious. She wasn't working alone.

 

Gavin noticed her raising the thing that had caused him so much pain.

 

It was a taser, the same kind their scumbag suspect had used to attack Connor with. Modified to do more damage, to be harmful to androids - and dangerous to humans.

 

She brought it down on Gavin again, pressing it into his flesh before the strength in his muscles could return, before he had any chance of defending himself.

 

He wasn't even able to scream as the agony returned, longer this time, and so much worse.

 

Everything went black.


	20. Just a warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know. I am not ready. For any of this. Especially not the next chapters. This one is hard enough.

 

It was times like these when North remembered more than ever why she would have gladly died for Markus during the Revolution.

 

He hadn't hesitated one second to mobilize the entire intelligence network of New Jericho after Connor had called, practically begging for help. And he was swiftly working through the information he was getting, preparing to send out support units to work with the DPD.

 

Nobody was questioning him, even though they were doing all this primarily to save a single human - who might already be dead.

 

Yeah, North wasn't much of a fan of this mission, but it was not like she'd go around broadcasting her opinion to the rest of her people.

 

This human was somehow important to Connor, for whatever reason, and Connor was her friend, so she'd stick with him. Plus, if this went well, she'd be able to take revenge for her murdered people who had been turned into merchandise yet again.

 

To be literally consumed.

 

And for what? A _fucking high_ humans could just as easily achieve by using the many legal drugs available to them.

 

Before she knew it, she was seething, anger crawling into her system, covering her like a second skin, painfully familiar to her.

 

A hand on her shoulder made her snap out of the spiral of rage that had her clenching her fists so hard, it would have hurt had she been able to feel pain.

 

She raised her head to find Markus looking at her, eyes all gentle and worried. Even with all the chaos going on, he always found the time to calm her down when she most needed it. How did he know every single time?

 

This man was truly rA9's gift to this world.

 

"We've gathered the data on the most likely locations. Why don't you go tell Connor, while I debrief Josh and Simon on where to move our volunteer search teams?"

 

North shrugged, a bit confused as to why he'd tell her of all people to do this, but it wasn't like she'd refuse a chance to talk to her friend ... Maybe get some more info out of him what kind of person this Gavin guy was they were making such a fuss over.

 

She walked over to the monitor that showed Connor's face on a video chat, his eyes turned towards something off camera she couldn't see, furiously typing away.

 

"Hey," she said, sitting down in front of the screen, already pulling up the info Markus had told her about. "May I have your attention?"

 

Connor had obviously heard her, looking up to meet her gaze while not ceasing the movement of his hands across the keyboard. He seemed exhausted, stressed, LED a solid yellow, muscles in his face tense.

 

There was something in the way his shoulders were trembling slightly.

 

He wasn't just worried about that missing guy, he was deathly afraid.

 

It was ... understandable, given the situation at hand, but also a bit stunning to see Connor so emotional about it. He was usually better at hiding it.

 

It also made her question just what exactly the nature of his relationship with this human was.

 

"North," he greeted her. "Do you have the file I asked for ready?"

 

She nodded, proceeding to send the info to him.

 

"There you go, those should be the most likely locations. Markus is getting groups ready to aid the search right now. We should be ready to move any minute."

 

The relief on Connor's face was so intense, North didn't quite know how to react to it.

 

"I'll create a plan on which units will tackle which areas now and send the completed file back to you," he said, distracted by the info he was going through.

 

Then he paused his typing for a moment, forcing out a brief smile.

 

"Thank you, North. Please, tell Markus and the others as well. I couldn't have done this without your help."

 

North couldn't help but laugh a little at that.

 

"Oh, please. Of course you could have. You just wouldn't have been as fast."

 

"Every second counts," he stated, his voice so heavy that the sound of it tugged at her heartstrings. "Gavin ... he's my partner. I can't lose him, not like this."

 

The sincerity of those words caught her off guard. She wasn't sure what to make of it.

 

"You really mean that, huh?" she asked. "You haven't been partners for that long yet, have you?"

 

"That doesn't matter," he explained. "Hank and I didn't have the chance to work together for long before the Revolution, and he was still willing to put his life on the line to protect me, just as I was to do the same for him."

 

Connor's eyes went soft suddenly, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in an almost-smile; and somehow, he reminded her of Markus in that moment.

They had so much trust in others, in humans no less, that they were willing to give them the benefit of the doubt again and again.

 

It was a concept that was so alien to North, it made her head spin.

 

"Tell me about this human. Gavin," she demanded, curious and desperate to understand what was driving Connor. "You must have clicked quite well for you to be so afraid for him now."

 

For some reason that made Connor laugh, just for a second before he turned serious again, eyes distant, like he was lost in thought.

 

North raised her eyebrows in response.

 

"What? Did I say something funny?"

 

"No," he said. "Well, not really at least. When Gavin and I first met, before the Revolution, he despised me. I think part of him still does. He tried to shoot me, I knocked him out cold, sending him straight to the hospital."

 

Whoa, what?

 

North had not expected that, not with this expression of fondness on Connor's face. Still, she couldn't help but grin proudly at him for his admission of kicking that human's ass.

 

"That's my boy! But how did you go from almost killing each other to you essentially moving heaven and earth to save that guy?"

 

Connor looked down at his hands for a moment, thinking.

 

"Gavin ... was the first human, Hank aside, to actually work with me," he finally said. "On every case Hank and I worked together, my human colleagues tended to ask Hank questions they could have directed at me. They used Hank to avoid communicating directly with me."

 

Typical humans, North thought. No surprise there.

 

"I'm guessing Gavin was different?"

 

Connor was smiling now, a real, honest smile, tinged with sadness.

 

"Gavin, despite our history and despite how uncomfortable he was around me, took me seriously from the start. Talking to me, listening to my conclusions, even asking for my opinion."

 

"That ... does sound nice," North admitted. "However, that's still a far cry from calling him your partner."

 

The smile on Connor's face didn't waver at those words, it just became a little more thoughtful.

 

"I know. I am not sure how it happened, but ... I was curious, after getting to work with him. When we were asked to form a task force, I was glad. I wanted to understand him, to get a glimpse beyond the mask he was wearing constantly. This wall of anger and mockery."

 

North was biting her lips now; Connor's words had struck a chord with her, somehow.

 

"So, what did you find?" she asked, quietly, almost fearing that he wouldn't be able to hear her; but he did.

 

"I found that this outward asshole persona wasn't entirely fake. He's abrasive, rude, a bit selfish," Connor said, looking at North with a spark of light in his eyes that hadn't been there before. "But he's also so much more than that. He's trying to hide his fears and weaknesses so desperately. He cares about people, even if he doesn't want to admit it. He finally acknowledged me."

 

North was stunned. This sounded so familiar to her, so close to her experience that it hurt. She pushed it aside, deciding not to dwell on it.

 

A notification sound told her that Connor had just sent a file to her - he'd finished the plan, all while talking to her. Impressive as always. She started downloading it, meeting his gaze for a moment.

 

There was a new expression in Connor's eyes, an expression of hurt.

 

"There is so much I want to talk to him about," he whispered, more to himself than to her, she was sure of that.

 

"Time go get him back, then," she said regardless, earning herself another smile.

 

 

\---

 

 

Gavin groaned, his consciousness slowly returning to him.

 

He pushed the darkness and the haze away, only to find bright blue eyes staring at him from behind a white mask, right above his face. Terrified, he bit back a scream, trying to kick his kidnapper away from him instead.

 

He barely managed to lift his legs, almost sliding off the table he was lying on with the motion.

 

The woman let out a sound, the caricature of a laugh, simply placing him back into his original position. Like he was nothing but a human doll.

 

Gavin felt sick. He was mortified by the lack of strength in his body, by how little he could do to shake her hands off.

 

"Relax," the woman said, her tone so soothing, like she was talking to a small child waking up from a nightmare.

 

Only, Gavin had woken up to be faced with something worse - a reality in which he was helpless to watch whatever happened to him, unable to move a muscle.

 

What had she done to him? Had she drugged him?

 

He tried to lift his head to look around, clinging to his dwindling hope of escaping. He was confused by how blurry the room was, he could barely make out some monitors to his right, until he remembered that he wasn't wearing his contact lenses. His glasses were nowhere to be found.

 

The woman pushed his head back down, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

 

"You don't need to move anything, Detective Reed," she whispered into his ear. "Except your mouth, of course."

 

He could hear her breath pushing against the inside of her mask, like it was trying to escape but couldn't. Gavin felt a shudder run through his body.

 

"I have a few little questions for you, if you don't mind. Like how much you know about this operation as of yet. I'd check myself, but sadly, your case file is expertly encrypted."

 

Encrypted, huh? That must have been Connor's doing. Good thinking. Gavin almost felt like laughing in her face now, just to spite her.

 

"Too bad, bitch," he spat out, surprised by the slur in his voice. Tranquilizer? Or maybe muscle relaxant. "I don't feel like telling you shit."

 

He expected her to get angry, possibly even violent. Who knew how much of a psycho she was?

 

What he didn't expect was her calmly putting a hand on his cheek, stroking it softly. Her other hand came to a rest on his chest, just above his collarbone. It felt like spiders crawling across his skin.

 

He couldn't see her face, couldn't make out her emotions, the subtle shift in expression, just pristine, featureless white. She was only eyes and hands touching him, adding a sense of surreal horror to his situation during the endless moments she was leaning over him.

 

Gavin felt his heart start to beat against his chest so hard, he could see the vibrations. And she could feel them.

 

She was laughing now, artificial and cold.

 

"Don't worry, dear. I was just trying to be nice."

 

The hand on his chest started to wander again, moving up and brushing against his jaw.

 

"I don't actually need you."

 

The words didn't have time to really sink in before she made her move. Her hand was pressing into his throat, grip painful, like a vice, crushing his wind pipe.

 

She was strangling him.

 

Gavin tried to shove her off, tried to fight, to thrash, yet all he could muster was a weak flail and a dry gasp without breath in it.

 

The edges of his world frayed, going dim, except for the lights dancing across his vision like stars.

 

"You are nothing. Just a warning to the rest of them."


	21. Fading

 

Hank was driving across town as fast as he could. He was definitely going over the speed limit and taking more risks than he probably should have.

 

No horns, no sirens, no radio chatter. All cars in their convoy were quick and silent, as to not accidentally warn this fucked up murder drug cartel that they were coming.

 

Under normal circumstances, Connor would have said something about Hanks risky maneuvers - like when he got dangerously close to the rear end of a truck or used the moment of drifting around a tight corner to simultaneously overtake three other cars.

Fuck, under normal circumstances, Connor would have insisted on driving, referring to his superior reflexes and visual processing, being all smug about it.

 

These were not normal circumstances.

 

Connor was distracted, which was never good; it meant that he was trapping himself in the processes in his head, driving himself insane with calculations and guilt trips.

 

But he also had to oversee the whole operation, keeping communications with the search units of New Jericho open at all times, talking in silence with the group leaders. Hank wished he could hear what was going on, but he trusted Connor to convey the important bits to him.

 

Connor looked more tense, the closer they got to their target. Hank caught him watching more and more cars in their convoy go down their own routes, to their own target locations.

 

There were so many emotions visible in his eyes, anxiety, doubt, fear. He was so human, it made Hank's chest hurt.

 

Connor's LED had shifted from solid yellow to flashing between yellow and red in irregular intervals, but Hank didn't have it in him to say anything about it. Connor would only deny being overwhelmed and drive himself into a frenzy over reassuring Hank.

 

So instead, Hank just drove even faster, his grip around the steering wheel tight and secure.

 

He tried to only focus on the road, but his thoughts wandered off to Gavin.

 

Was he still alive? Bastard better be, he hadn't fully made up for all this shit he's put Connor through yet.

 

Then again ...

 

He thought about Gavin in his apartment, lost and broken and full of guilt.

 

He thought about the hurt in his voice when he had talked about Connor being superior to him - or, the other way around, him being inadequate.

 

He thought about Gavin saving Connor from Lonville, going so far as to wound the attacker to keep him from hurting anyone else or killing Connor.

 

He thought about mockery turning into teasing, sneers turning into hesitant smiles.

 

He thought about that look in Connor's eyes whenever he was talking to Gavin, the curiosity, the softness ...

 

Fuck.

 

"How far?" he asked, pulling himself out of his own head.

 

Their location was the most likely one. He had to hold onto that piece of hope, even if they didn't have a lot to go on. Even if they could be wrong. Or too late.

 

"Ten minutes, according to my calculations," Connor replied, biting his lip.

 

"I'll make that seven."

 

 

\---

 

 

Gavin thought he was going to die right there.

 

He couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. He couldn't even see anymore, his vision fading out as he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness.

 

Figures he'd go out like that, helpless and pathetic and terrified.

 

But then the pressure on his throat stopped and air flooded his lungs. Cold and sweet and painful and pure bliss.

 

He was coughing, gagging, coughing again, tears in his eyes.

 

"It seems our playtime is over," she said, disappointment clear as day in her words. There was a soft static sound. Something like the whisper of a distant voice. A man's voice. A headset, hidden by her mask?

 

"I don't know whether to be happy or disappointed to have gotten you," she mumbled, distracted as she pulled something out of the pocket of her coat. "On the one hand, getting you out of the way is going to make things so much easier. You're somewhat of a rising star, aren't you? Solving cases left and right."

 

"I suppose I should be flattered, but I don't give a fuck about your opinion," Gavin said, glaring daggers at her in between his still desperate, fast breaths.

 

"You have quite the mouth on you. But I guess it's all you have left, right?" She laughed. "To be honest, I would have preferred a different target. I was hoping to get the android. He would have been fun to take apart. But I'll get to do that soon enough."

 

Gavin jerked his head around, unable to hide the strangled sound that escaped him, revealing the fear he felt at her words. She was going to go after Connor next.

 

She laughed again, turning to look at him, studying his face.

 

"Now that reaction is more like it. You care about this piece of trash? This machine playing human? This is hilarious."

 

Her words felt like a slap to the face – because not so long ago, Gavin would have agreed with her.

 

But Connor wasn't just a machine. Connor was ... Connor. Sharp and analytical and always too curious for his own good. Connor was smiles and teasing and reassuring whispers during a panic attack and always worrying so damn much, about everything, about Gavin of all people. Gavin, who'd been nothing but nasty to him for the longest time.

 

Connor was more human than most people.

 

Fuck.

 

He'd never gotten to tell him that. He probably never would get that chance again. He'd never be able to be honest with him, talk to him, even just see him.

 

It hurt. It hurt so much.

 

"Really? You are going to cry over an android?"

 

Gavin was startled by her words. What was she saying?

 

Then he realized she was right. There was something hot and wet on his cheeks, and an almost forgotten, yet familiar burning sensation in his eyes.

 

He could barely remember the last time he'd cried. And he did it in this fucked up situation? He almost felt like laughing now.

 

The woman sighed, her hands working on something Gavin couldn't see, until she turned a bit to face Gavin again.

 

A syringe. Filled with deep red liquid.

 

"Most people prefer smoking it, but I doubt I'd manage to get you to overdose this way. Not with how little time we have left."

 

Overdose?

 

His eyes widened in horror as he realized what was about to happen. He wanted to get up, get away from her.

 

There was a sharp pain in his arm before he could do so much as blink, intense heat traveling through his veins like a firestorm, making him scream. His nervous system was going crazy, causing him to squirm and pant and moan, both in agony and a sick, twisted pleasure.

 

His mind was going blank, fear dissipating, replaced by a fog so thick, he thought he could taste it.

 

And there was still more fire entering his body, tormenting him.

 

No. No, couldn't let this happen. He couldn't.

 

He wanted to fight her off, his limbs less heavy than before, almost usable again. Whatever she'd given him to restrain him was wearing off. He had to move.

 

He caught her arm with all the strength he could muster, clawing at her flesh, his nails tearing through her skin, making her scream in pain and anger. He felt her blood on his hand before she reeled back, cursing.

 

It was his chance, his opening. He ...

 

It wasn't enough.

 

He couldn't think straight anymore, heart pounding, head swirling. He was underwater, everything dull and distant.

 

No.

 

He had to move.

 

He wasn't strong enough to get off the table, not fast enough to avoid the blow to his face that made his world explode into color. Angry red and blinding white.

 

"You like drawing blood, huh? Then I hope you like drinking it. The blood of those beloved androids of yours."

 

There was something shoved in his mouth, liquid coating his tongue. It tasted bitter and sour at the same time, like ink diffused in alcohol. Thirium, he realized, piecing her words together to make sense of what was happening. She'd given him the blood of dead androids to drink.

 

"I would have loved to give you the blood of your android _partner_ ," she said, spitting out the last word like an insult.

 

And Gavin was horrified, disgusted. Until he wasn't anymore.

 

The poison in his veins and the blood on his tongue made his world brighter. He saw halos around the lights in the room, blue halos like a hologram. Like an android's LED.

 

He was in pain, so much pain he wanted to scream but couldn't, he mouth wouldn't open, his muscles wouldn't move. His chest was so tight, his limbs and head felt like he was getting tased endlessly, mercilessly. Lightning burning him up from the inside. And there was a part of him enjoying it, reveling in the energy coursing through his bloodstream.

 

He started thrashing involuntarily and felt himself slipping off the table, his body hitting the floor, the impact knocking the air out of his lungs.

 

Gavin gasped, disoriented. He should have been terrified, he knew he was dying. But there was still the electricity in his body, the soothing agony.

 

His heart was beating too fast. Going faster and faster still. The brightness around him was turning into brilliant, vivid darkness, smothering him, caressing him.

 

His body ceased to exist, his being reduced to just eyes made of dancing lights and shadows and a heartbeat so rapid, it made him tremble all over.

 

A door closed, the sound as loud as a gunshot in his ears.

 

He was alone.

 

He was dying.

 

He was scared.

 

_He was scared._

 

He didn't know how long he was lying there, left alone with nothing but the pain and the haze and his racing heartbeat. It felt like an eternity.

 

He tried to hold onto himself, onto his thoughts and feelings, his _existence_. Until he couldn't anymore. He was slipping.

 

And then his heart just ... stopped, his world dimming down into silence. And nothingness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry.


	22. Heart

The site, an abandoned laboratory close to the highway that led to the neighborhood, seemed completely deserted.

 

Hank felt his heart sink as he pulled up next to Officer Miller's patrol car.

 

There was nothing here, just old, paved streets (which meant no tire tracks, great) and vegetation reclaiming the former parking lot, with weeds breaking through cracks on the ground and tall grass obscuring the view of the ground floor windows of the lab.

 

From what Hank could see, there was a padlock on the front doors, keeping them closed.

 

He got out of the car, trying to keep his hopes up for now - just because he didn't see anything, didn't mean Connor didn't. This was the most likely location after all, right?

 

He was aware of Connor following after him, taking in the scenery, searching, processing. He had to find something. A clue, a secret, anything at all would do.

 

His determination wavered when he saw the crestfallen expression on Chris' face.

 

"Any luck?" he asked, despite knowing the answer already.

 

Chris shook his head.

 

"No ... Looks like nobody has been here in forever. No signs of forced entry, all the windows are mostly intact, and I doubt they hauled dead androids or ... a human through a tiny bathroom window up on the first floor."

 

"What about entrances?"

 

"This one right here, locked doors and the additional padlock, locked backdoor and a fire escape that's been closed off with chains," Chris said, voice slightly shaky. "Lieutenant, I don't think we're at the right place."

 

Hank feared the same thing. They must have gotten it wrong.

 

But the other search units were still out there, investigating their assigned targets. And they could still spread out and tackle other locations in the area, instead of standing around here, burning daylight.

 

He had to keep calm, reassure Connor, who was most likely freaking out by now.

 

Only, when he turned around to face his son, prepared to break the news as gently as possible ... Connor wasn't there. He was standing off to the side, facing the building, his LED pulsing yellow and red, hands clasped together so tightly, his artificial skin was peeling back in some places, damaged.

 

Hank walked up to him, worry and fear growing with each step.

 

"This isn't right," Connor mumbled, staring at windows like they held some sort of answer. "I was ... I am sure. This is the most likely place. Did I miss something?"

 

"Maybe he just isn't at the most likely one," Hank said, putting a hand on Connor's shoulder to calm him down. "We could go join the teams at the other locations, maybe they've had more luck."

 

For a moment, it seemed like Connor was going to cave in, but then his gaze fell on the door, his whole body going stiff.

 

"What? What is it, son?"

 

Connor didn't reply. He just walked over to the door with brisk steps, taking the padlock in hand. A shiny, high security model, attached to a chain so big, it would take a while to open even with a bolt cutter.

 

"What do you see?"

 

"This is too new," Connor said. "It has been out in the open for a few weeks at most, given the lack of evidence of exposure to the elements."

 

"Maybe it was renewed by the owner of the property?"

 

Connor shook his head, his hands gripping the padlock harder. "The owner died two years ago, with no heirs. This is property of the city now."

 

That was suspicious, but it didn't mean it was connected to Gavin's disappearance. Still, Hank would take it.

 

They didn't have the luxury of taking their sweet ass time mulling about lack of concrete evidence.

 

Connor's LED went red for a second; he dropped the padlock without warning, causing it to slam against the metal doors.

 

"You okay? What is it?"

 

"We have to get inside, now," Connor said, a sense of urgency in his voice, and fear.

 

"How do we get inside? We don't have keys , or a bolt cutter for the chain, as far as I know. And -."

 

Hank was startled by the sound of a gun going off, followed by glass shattering. The window closest to the door broke into a million glittering pieces, raining down on the grass below.

 

"Jesus Christ! What are you doing? If the bastards are still there, you just announced our presence with the subtlety of a wrecking ball!"

 

Connor holstered his weapon, making sure the safety was back on.

 

"They're not."

 

"How can you be so sure?"

 

Connor didn't answer. He took a few steps back, eyes burning, focused completely on the broken window. Hank realized a second too late what he was doing. Jumping and hoisting himself up on the windowsill with one smooth, powerful motion, Connor did a roll, disappearing inside with a dull thud.

 

Hank stared in bewilderment.

 

"What the fuck are you doing?"

 

"Saving Gavin. Figure out a way to open that door and follow me. I don't have time to wait."

 

Hank felt his heart rate speed up, terrified by the thought of Connor in there alone, potentially running straight into a trap.

 

"Oh no, don't you dare go without backup! Connor!"

 

But he was gone already, sprinting off into the darkness, until Hank couldn't see him anymore.

 

Shit.

 

 

\---

 

 

Connor didn't want to worry Hank, but he didn't find it in himself to care right now.

 

He didn't have time.

 

He had to be fast, had to save Gavin, if he was even still ...

 

No.

 

_Don't think about it._

 

_Don't think about the fresh blood you found on the padlock._

 

The terrifying red of the blood smeared along the underside, almost invisible after most had been wiped off. Not enough for him to even try and analyze.

 

But it confirmed something.

 

The ones who had taken Gavin were gone, they were gone and they had locked the place behind them.

 

Was it his blood or theirs?

 

Had they taken Gavin with them or left him behind?

 

Had they killed him already?

 

The thought took Connor's breath away, but he kept running, searching, unable to calm down. His body was heating up from the lack of cooling oxygen and the amount of stress on his system.

 

He didn't care.

 

He needed to try. He needed to try with all his might to save Gavin.

 

He had to find the basement. It was ventilated, at least from what the building plan suggested, hidden from view. No sound of machinery or lights in the night would make their way outside to raise suspicion.

 

It had to be the basement.

 

He found the stairs, sprinting without any regard for his safety. If there still was someone here, they could easily shoot Connor on his way down. He was wide open, going too fast to avoid attacks, even if he did see someone.

 

He didn't care about that either.

 

Nothing happened. Nobody showed themselves. He was alone with the sound of his footsteps running along empty corridors and the bright red warnings flashing across his vision.

 

Room after room he went through, all of them abandoned. He saw indicators of drug manufacturing, but he didn't give a damn. It wasn't important, not now.

 

He rounded a corner, getting closer to the center of the basement. He stopped dead in his tracks, taking in a sharp breath, eyes going wide.

 

Blood.

 

There was a trail of blood on the floor, the red a harsh contrast against the white of the floor beneath.

 

Connor crouched down, dragging his finger across a drop of blood to sample it. He let out a strangled sound as soon as it touched his tongue.

 

Gavin's blood.

 

He was really here.

 

And he was hurt. Or worse.

 

Connor started running again. Tracking the blood on the floor to a room with a closed door.

 

 _Please don't be locked_ , he thought.

 

It wasn't.

 

The door swung open wide, revealing a row of monitors lining a wall and a long, metal table, meant for working with chemicals, in the middle.

 

And on the ground in front of the table ...

 

Gavin.

 

He wasn't moving.

 

Connor was by his side in an instant, scanners ready to take in the damage.

 

He was not prepared for what he found.

 

 

**//Scanning ...//**

 

**Minor skin laceration and severe swelling to the side of the head.**

 

**Severe skin lacerations to both writsts, bleeding has stopped due to lack of circulation.**

 

**Signs of forceful injection to lower right arm.**

 

**No breathing.**

 

**No heartbeat.**

 

**Diagnose: cardiopulmonary arrest.**

 

**Possible cause: overdose; injection with unknown substance - likely Red Ice Type 2, aka Electric Blue.**

 

**Recommended action: perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation immediately and alert emergency services.**

 

**Warning: anoxic brain injuries can occur if the brain is deprived of oxygen for more than 6 minutes.**

 

 

"No. No, please no," Connor whispered, frantically ripping Gavin's blood stained shirt open to gain better access to his chest, placing his hands firmly above his heart. "Don't die, please."

 

He pressed down, hard, fast, using his body weight. At least two inches deep. A steady rate of 100 compressions per minute. One, two, three ...

 

He could do this. He could save Gavin.

 

Everything would be fine.

 

He wanted to call for help, call Hank, call an ambulance, but there was no wireless signal here and he didn't have the ability to pick up radio frequencies.

 

If only he had a radio on him.

 

If only he had been made as a military model.

 

If only he had been there with Gavin the night he got taken.

 

If only ...

 

Thirty.

 

He moved his hands to Gavin's head, gently tilting it back to clear the airways before pinching his nose shut. He leaned over, covering Gavin's mouth with his own. Three breaths. One to help the lungs rise, two to deliver oxygen.

 

Then back to his chest.

 

No heartbeat yet.

 

"Come on," he begged. "Come back to me, Gavin. Please."

 

He kept going, losing track of time, only focusing on keeping Gavin's blood flowing and his lungs working.

 

There was something hot and wet on Connor's cheeks, drops falling down on Gavin's chest and face while he was working. He didn't care.

 

He was barely aware of Hank finding him what felt like eons later, cursing, screaming something at someone. Connor didn't have the capacity to process any of it.

 

He continued. Compressions. Breaths. Compressions. Breaths. Until someone placed a hand on his shoulder, urging him to move away. He wanted to scream at them, but then he saw their uniforms. They were paramedics. They were here to save Gavin. They would save Gavin.

 

He heard himself explaining what he knew like he was listening to a stranger. Red Ice. Not breathing. No heartbeat. The other, minor wounds that weren't as important now. He was stuttering, stumbling over his own words. His voice was hollow.

 

When tried to stand, he found he couldn't, his processors so close to overheating it made him incapable of moving his body.

 

"Come on, kid. Power down for a minute before you spontaneously combust."

 

Hank was next to Connor, kneeling down to be at eye level with him. Connor wondered if he should remind Hank of his bad knee. He wondered if it mattered. His mind was a blur, his world strangely out of focus, distant.

 

But then Hank pulled Connors head against his chest, his heartbeat filling Connor's ears, erasing the noise in his head for a moment.

 

"Everything's gonna be alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not crying. I swear I'm not.


	23. Hospital

Hank hated hospitals.

 

Hated the endless waiting on uncomfortable plastic chairs.

 

Hated the vending machines constantly making a humming noise that tended to crawl inside his ears, making his head hurt.

 

Hated the squeaking sound shoes made on the clean linoleum floors.

 

Hated the smell of chemicals and the bright lights and the blank walls that were either blindingly white or some bullshit color like eggshell or pastel pink or mint.

 

This hospital had hallways painted pale blue. He'd gotten sick of it after two minutes - about an hour ago.

 

Hank ran a hand across his face, sighing.

 

He could deal with the sounds and the smells and the damn plastic chairs and all of this shit, somehow. What he couldn't deal with was the threat of losing someone within the walls of a place that was supposed to bring healing.

 

He didn't know when or how or why exactly, but somewhere along the way he'd stopped hating Gavin's guts. The bastard had stopped being just the asshole he knew from work and turned into a real person with demons to fight - something Hank had to admit he hadn't seen in Reed before.

 

And that he'd stopped treating Connor like shit had only helped breaking down Hank's walls further. He still wasn't fond of Gavin, but he didn't want him to die.

 

His gaze shifted over to Connor, who was leaning against him, eyes closed, LED circling blue slowly, calmly. He was sleeping, thankfully, creating the illusion of peace.

Hank didn't even mind that his shoulder was getting a bit numb from the weight of Connor's head and the angle he was holding it at as to not disturb him. Connor deserved, no, needed his rest.

 

Hank let out a shaky breath, thinking back at the sight of Connor working so desperately to keep Gavin alive, get his heart beating, lungs breathing.

 

He remembered the streaks of tears on Connors face, the way his lip had trembled and his body had almost shut down right then and there, weak, running so hot it had felt like a fever.

 

He'd never seen Connor so distraught. He'd never seen his son cry before.

 

It had broken his heart, shattered it into countless pieces, sharp and painful.

 

He really didn't want to think about how Connor would react to losing Gavin.

 

How likely was it that he would make it? Gavin was strong, right? A fighter. The wounds on his wrists had shown that, had shown how hard he had tried to escape his restraints. They had found the bloody and bent handcuffs on site, chain broken with sheer force.

 

They had also found a taser and an empty vial of muscle relaxant. And the drugs they had tried to kill him with.

 

Bastards had never left him any chance at all.

 

What if all that had been done to him had damaged him so badly that he wouldn't be able to pull through?

 

He recalled how lifeless Gavin had been, how pale and limp. Like a rag-doll in the hands of the paramedics.

 

It had taken so long to get his heart beating again, a mask helping him breathe when his body was too weak to take in enough oxygen on its own.

 

What if they had been too late to prevent permanent damage to Gavin's brain? What would that mean moving forward? Would he never wake up? Or would he be ... different? What about his family? Did he even have a family? Did he have any next of kin to decide his fate if the worst were to happen?

 

Hank couldn't face those possibilities, the image of Connor's desperation still fresh in his mind.

 

He thought about Cole, not for the first time since arriving at the hospital, but for the first time without forcing the memories out of his head again. He finally allowed the past to keep him company, allowed himself to remember the terror of not knowing, and the unimaginable pain of losing his child.

 

He would never wish that, or anything even remotely close to it, on anyone.

 

Hank looked over at Connor again, at his soft, relaxed features, the LED on his temple, the way he seemed so defenseless when asleep. He didn't want him to experience loss like that, the agony of someone leaving too early, for them to be erased from the future they should have been in.

 

So he closed his eyes, hoping, no, begging that it would never come to that.

 

 

\---

 

 

Waking up from idle mode was always strange, with his mind slow and sluggish as his processors started powering up, initiating protocols. According to his internal clock, he had entered idle mode around two hours ago.

 

Connor kept his eyes closed for a few moments longer, only listening. He could hear Hank talking quietly to someone.

 

"Is he gonna be alright?"

 

"He's out of immediate danger now, but he hasn't woken up yet and his respiratory system and heart rate are still very unstable. We are keeping him monitored right now."

 

He sat up at that, instantly wide awake.

 

Gavin. They were talking about Gavin.

 

_He's alive._

 

"Did ... Did we manage to get to him in time? Or will there be lasting consequences?" he blurted out, startling the doctor.

 

She looked over at him for a moment, expression serious, contemplative.

 

"I can't say for certain yet, we are still running tests, but it seems he got lucky. We're keeping a close eye on his vitals as well as doing our best to remove as much of the drug in his system as possible in order to prevent damage to his internal organs. I can't disclose any more information than that, since you are not his next of kin. Probably said too much already."

 

The relief was so great, Connor felt his muscles go limp for a moment, the stress and tension just melting away.

 

Gavin was alive.

 

He was alive and he was cared for and that was all that mattered right now.

 

"When can we visit him?" Hank asked, his hand squeezing Connor's tightly, supporting him.

 

The doctor shook her head.

 

"I can't say at the moment. It depends on when he wakes up and can give permission to allow non-related visitors. If there are any relatives, they might be able to give consent in his place, as long as he's out of it. You should head home for now. But go ahead and take a card at the reception, it has our visiting hours on it for when you are going to need it."

 

Hank frowned a little, but nodded.

 

"Can you give us a call, then? When he wakes up, I mean."

 

"I'm sorry," the doctor said. "I can't do that without his permission, either. But I'll make sure he knows you were here. You're his partners, right?"

 

Hank looked like he wanted to say something else, probably argue with her, but Connor put a hand on his arm, stopping him.

 

He stood up, smiling at the doctor as best as he could manage right now.

 

"Yes. Thank you for everything."

 

Then he turned around, starting to walk out of the building, unable to stay any longer. It felt like the walls were pressing in on him, trapping him.

 

He was vaguely aware of Hank following after him, but he didn't say anything.

 

He was ... lost, disoriented, his emotions pulling his thoughts in every direction, contradicting and confusing.

 

He was so relieved that Gavin was alive. Devastated to hear that he wasn't truly alright, not yet. Hurt that he couldn't be by his side. Afraid that something might still go wrong.

And angry. So very angry. At the person who had done this to Gavin. At himself for not having been able to prevent all this from happening.

 

At Gavin.

 

The thought scared him, yet he could not deny it was true.

 

If only Gavin had trusted him enough to call him, tell him about his clue, his plans, wait for him to join him. He could have protected him.

 

Then why? Why had Gavin not involved him in this? Why had he gone out alone, despite being exhausted and vulnerable?

 

Connor only then realized that he had stopped walking, in the middle of the parking lot. His shoulders were shaking, his breath was going in quick, shallow bursts. He was sure his LED was flashing red by now.

 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, turning him around to face Hank, whose eyes were so incredibly gentle.

 

Before he knew it, Hank was pulling him against his chest, wrapping his arms around him.

 

And Connor let him, just allowing himself to be held until his racing thoughts calmed down.

 

"It's alright. Let's go home, son. We'll come and check on him tomorrow."

 

He nodded. Dark thoughts weren't going to solve anything, they would only make him feel worse.

 

Everything would be alright soon. He had to believe it.

 

 

\---

 

 

Numbness. Darkness. Isolation.

 

He was alone, so completely alone, unable to see or hear or feel.

 

He was drifting. Weightless in an ocean of nothingness.

 

What was happening?

 

How long had he been here? Time didn't exist anymore.

 

He thought he had forgotten who he was, until he heard a whisper all around him, calling him.

 

"Gavin."

 

A feeling of pure, undiluted dread filled him. He recognized that voice, a voice from his deepest nightmares.

 

He knew then that he was asleep. He was asleep and dreaming.

 

Because there was no way this was real. No way that man was really there, talking to him.

 

That monster had died, many, many years ago. Gavin had not bothered going to his funeral, spending the day in a drunken stupor instead, picking a fight at a bar that had led to him crying his eyes out while laughing hysterically, bloody and bruised and finally free - only to realize that the chains were still there.

 

They would never disappear, even if the marks on his skin had faded long ago.

 

"You are a disappointment, Gavin," he said, breath ghosting over the skin on his neck.

 

And the darkness melted into tar, making it unable for Gavin to move away, trapping him.

 

"A failure. A fuck up. Worthless."

 

Gavin wanted to tell him to shut up, but he couldn't. There was tar on his tongue now, gluing his mouth shut.

 

"You get a chance to die and you still cling to life."

 

An invisible hand touched his throat and Gavin recoiled, terrified.

 

 _This is a dream_ , he had to remind himself. _I need to wake up._

 

"Go ahead and die, for all I care."

 

No.

 

He had to wake up.

 

_Wake up._

 

He was screaming the words inside his head now, feeling the numbness slip away.

 

There was pain beyond the fog of nothingness, but Gavin didn't care. He kept pushing, kept fighting.

 

_Wake up!_

 

 

His eyes snapped open and all he wanted was to scream, but there was something inside of him, choking him. His chest felt like it was filled with a myriad of glowing hot needles, piercing his insides.

 

He tried to move and couldn't. There were faceless, blurry people holding him down, talking. He didn't understand a word they were saying.

 

The flashing of an LED caught his attention, flickering between yellow and blue. For some reason it calmed him down.

 

His mind was still foggy and he was scared and in pain, but he stayed on his back long enough for a tube to be pulled from his throat, causing him to gag and cough before he was finally able to suck in deep, agonizing, beautiful breaths.

 

His whole upper body felt like it had been set on fire, his flesh was bruised and tender underneath his skin.

 

Memories came flooding back, making him gasp.

 

The night he had been kidnapped. The cell. The crazy masked lady. The poison in his bloodstream and the feeling of his heart standing still. The terror he had experienced, the desperation. And then ... nothing.

 

Only now did the reality of his situation sink in.

 

He was in a hospital.

 

He must have been saved. Someone must have come for him. Connor?

 

There were bandages around his ribcage and wrists and a needle in his arm, pumping some sort of liquid into his veins.

 

His head was exploding, every little sound was making him wince. He pushed the pain aside, making eye contact with one of the nurses surrounding him.

 

She had an LED. An android. There was worry in her eyes, as well as something that made him calm down. Like she was telling him he was safe now.

 

He tried to speak to her, tried to ask questions his mind hadn't even formed yet, but nothing came out. His throat was dry and hurt like a bitch.

 

Gavin wanted to sit up and found he couldn't. He didn't have any strength left in his body. He was battered and broken.

 

But he'd made it. He'd made it out alive.

 

He closed his eyes, biting his lip to keep it from trembling.

 

He was alive.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Have I redeemed myself? Are you feeling better? Because I sure as hell am.


	24. Bad memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! How are you? Ready for equal parts angst and cuteness? Because I sure am! Enjoy!

 

Gavin was drifting again, his body numb. He wasn't asleep, that much he knew. There was a sense of awareness for his surroundings, doctors and nurses moving about, talking in barely audible voices.

 

His senses were clouded, limbs and eyelids too heavy to move. The pain he had felt the last time he had been awake was gone. Or not gone. Just dulled down to a point where it barely registered.

 

"What's his status?" someone asked. A man. A voice that sounded familiar. A voice that send shivers down Gavin's spine.

 

His brain was too slow to put the pieces together.

 

"He's stable now," a woman said, standing close to him, at the end of his bed maybe. "But he's pretty out of it. We have him on pain killers and a light muscle relaxant due to him thrashing in his sleep last night. We didn't want him to aggravate his bruised ribs. Receiving CPR for a prolonged period of time really did a number on him, but thankfully there are no fractures or separations."

 

"I see," the man said, monotone, like he wasn't all that interested after all. "I hear an android saved his life?"

 

"That is correct. I believe they are colleagues."

 

Connor.

 

That was all Gavin could think at that moment.

 

Connor had found him. Of course.

 

"They seem to be close," the woman continued after a while. "Mr Reed and his android partner, I mean."

 

"Oh? And what makes you say that?"

 

There was an edge to the man's voice now, something dark, yet ... satisfied.

 

"The android and an older gentleman spent a few hours waiting for news about his condition when he was brought in. I spoke to them myself and their concern seemed genuine to me. I hear they came in again the next day, when he was still unconscious."

 

A pause. Then the man again.

 

"Fascinating."

 

His tone was unsettling to Gavin ... predatory. It was so familiar that the pain of it cut through the fog inside his head.

 

In his mind, Gavin was fifteen again, staring at someone in the blue tinted twilight of a studio that was only lit by blinking LEDs and monitors filled with code and text.

 

He had heard the same word uttered back then, like this was a game, like Gavin's thoughts and feelings didn't matter at all. They were only variables in a sick test.

 

_Fascinating._

 

He felt his heart beating faster, despite the cocktail of drugs keeping him under still. He wanted so desperately to open his eyes, to speak. It didn't work.

 

A hand was on his for a moment, cool to the touch. And then it was gone.

 

"I'll take my leave now," the man said.

 

"Already?" The woman sounded uncertain, taken aback a little. "What about visitors? Should we allow them yet?"

 

The man clicked his tongue, thoughtful, remaining silent for a moment.

 

"No. Leave that for him to decide once he's fully awake."

 

There was silence after his words, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing again.

 

He was gone.

 

 

\---

 

 

When Hank woke up way too early for his taste, he could hear the sound of the TV running in the living room, just loud enough to make out that it was a news report on their widespread operation four days ago.

 

It seemed the vultures had figured out something was going on from the sheer flood of police cars spreading out around abandoned areas, but at least they didn't know what yet. There would have to be a statement given sooner or later, so they were gonna be in on the whole android homicide and Red Ice case eventually, but that wasn't really Hank's priority.

 

He debated himself on the pros and cons of just staying in bed for a couple of minutes, or hours, or days - he really felt like he needed a decent amount of time off to recharge after the bullshit he'd been through recently. But he had someone to take care of now, and he wouldn't leave Connor alone with his thoughts and worries.

 

That's why he got up with minimal grumbling and made his way to the kitchen.

 

He did a double take as soon as he entered the room, not sure what he had expected. Certainly not this.

 

Connor was sitting at the table, working on multiple electronic devices at once, mumbling something under his breath, while simultaneously whipping up something that looked like cake batter in a bowl on his lap. On a chair near the wall was a stack of washed, dried and ironed clothing folded into a neat stack. Not to mention that the floors were positively sparkling.

 

"Son, what the hell are you doing?"

 

Connor looked up, smiling. He seemed weirdly serene today, completely different from the last few days. Was it real or a front he put up?

 

"Good morning, Hank. I was making breakfast for you. Pancakes. I figured, since you've barely had time to eat recently, it was okay for me to treat you to something with a high amount of carbohydrates for once."

 

"It sounds weird when you say it like that," Hank said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "You know you don't have to cook or do chores for me, right? We've talked about this."

 

"I know," Connor replied, his smile wavering a bit. "I want to. It makes me feel like I'm doing something productive instead of sitting around, being ..."

 

Useless. He didn't say it, but Hank knew exactly what he was thinking. He sighed, walking up to his son to ruffle his hair. It was soft still, not slicked back yet. The way it curled and framed his face made him seem so incredibly young. Logically, Hank knew that Connor would always look like this, frozen in time. To his protective heart it didn't matter one bit.

 

He sighed, taking the bowl of pancake batter from Connor.

 

"I appreciate it, don't get me wrong. But I appreciate you simply being here, taking care of yourself, just as much. If you ever need anything, don't be afraid to ask."

 

Connor lowered his head a little, nodding ever so slightly without looking at Hank.

 

Hank turned around to get a pan ready for the pancakes, shooting the devices Connor continued to work on a glance.

 

"What about those? What are you up to?"

 

"I'm compiling case data while working on a report for Captain Fowler."

 

"All on your own?" Hank asked, shaking his head. "You know I am your partner, right? I can do some of the work."

 

Connor let out the tiniest of laughs at that. "You hate paperwork, Hank. I like it. It gives me something to keep me occupied."

 

So he wouldn't have too much time on his hands to just ... think. Hank knew, and he understood. That's why he just nodded, listening for the oil in the pan starting to sizzle.

 

"Found anything interesting?"

 

"Yes, in fact. There was DNA underneath Gavin's fingernails, he managed to scratch his kidnapper."

 

Quite the fighter, indeed. Hank had to respect that in Reed, he wasn't one to give up easily.

 

"Any matches yet?"

 

There was a second of silence before Connor responded. "No, nothing. No match in any database i can access. This is odd."

 

It was, but then again, stuff like that had happened before.

 

"Maybe he's a foreigner."

 

"She, it's a woman's DNA," Connor corrected him. "And that's one possibility."

 

"What's the other?"

 

Connor shook his head, looking thoughtful. "I am not sure yet. I'll tell you once I figure something out."

 

"Alright, you do that," Hank said. "Change of topic. Jeffrey told me we should take some time off for now and I'm gonna make use of that opportunity for as long as possible. How about we go check on Reed again later? He wasn't ready for visitors before, but I promised you we would try again, didn't I?"

 

The smile Connor gave him was so bright, it was almost blinding.

 

"Yes, I'd like that."

 

 

\---

 

 

He was awake now, much more than before. The pain was back with a vengeance, making it painful to even breathe the wrong way, but he vehemently refused another hit of whatever they had given him before.

 

Pain, he could deal with. Not being in control of his own body, he could not. Especially not after what had happened in that bunker.

 

He was staring at the ceiling now, white, spotless, something his eyes could just rest on while his mind was going all over the place. There was a little bit of fog left in his brain, a remnant of either the painkillers or the stress his body had gone through. Maybe both.

 

Had he really heard the voice he thought he had?

 

That was impossible.

 

Why would he be here? How would he know what had happened and where to look for him?

 

Why would he even come here? Certainly not because he cared. He never had.

 

Gavin took a deep breath, trying his hardest not to think about his past. It was an impossible feat.

 

His memories had always been there, at the edge of his consciousness, waiting for an opening. They were getting one, now that he was too weak to fight it.

 

He thought about the last time he had found himself just lying there, staring at the ceiling of a hospital room, in pain.

 

Funny, at least his eyes weren't swollen shut this time around. And even though breathing hurt, he didn't have the lingering taste of blood on his tongue.

 

He blinked and the room vanished, replaced by his father's office, his back no longer pressed against the mattress he was lying on, but the door he couldn't open. Locked inside with the beast, seething and ranting and screaming at him.

 

He remembered the words, the tone they had been said in, the venom dripping from every syllable.

 

_Worthless._

 

_Disgrace._

 

Gavin felt his heartbeat hammering in his chest. His throat getting tight. There wasn't enough air in the room to breathe anymore.

 

He remembered the shadow of his father looming over him. Tall, intimidating.

 

_Stop. Don't._

 

The bottle in his hand, some overpriced red wine, almost empty already, the contents fueling the drunken fury.

 

_Please._

 

He remembered white hot pain, the sensation of blood covering his face and neck, flooding his mouth.

 

He couldn't breathe.

 

_Fuck._

 

"Mr Reed?"

 

A soft voice pulled him from the abyss of his memories, making his eyes snap open. He gasped, finally breathing again. He was disoriented, frantically looking around the room.

 

There was the nurse again, the android he had seen when he had first woken up. Her LED was soft blue, soothing.

 

"Are you alright, Sir?" she asked, concern clearly visible on her face. "Should I call for a doctor?"

 

"No! No, it's fine. Just a bit of pain, is all."

 

His lie came out so naturally, voice already steady again, it almost surprised himself.

 

Connor would have seen right through it, he thought, but the nurse only gave him a reassuring smile.

 

"I can give you some painkillers, if you'd like."

 

"No," Gavin said, shaking his head. "I'll be fine. Nothing I can't deal with. Say, when can I get out of here?"

 

Concern was replaced with a stern, serious expression. "You'll have to talk to your doctors about that, but I would advise against leaving just yet. You should stay at least another day to rest up. You've been through a lot."

 

Gavin scoffed. "Yeah? Well, I don't find hospital stays especially relaxing. I'd do much better at home."

 

Now it was the nurse's turn to shake her head. She let out a sigh, straightening her shoulders.

 

"Really, Mr Reed. You should take care of yourself more. Your blood tests suggest that you didn't do a good job of that lately. You are malnourished."

 

The way she frowned at that, combined with her slightly formal way of speaking, made Gavin laugh, despite the pain that shot through his bruised chest as he did so.

 

The nurse looked at him with curiosity, head tilted to the side. "Did I say something funny?"

 

"No, or yes, somewhat," Gavin explained, not laughing anymore, but unable to stop smiling. "You remind me of my partner. He's an android, too."

 

Her face lit up at that and she grinned. "Oh, about that ... There is an android here, in the waiting area, along with a human gentleman."

 

Gavin couldn't help but stare at her at those words. Could it be? Connor - and Hank as well?

 

"They wouldn't happen to be a rough looking old geezer and dorky, tall guy with brown hair, puppy dog eyes and his LED still intact?"

 

The nurse nodded, eyes sparkling a little.

 

"That would be them. You seem close, that's nice. There were also two officers here earlier, a man and a woman. They wanted to check in on you before their shifts, but they were here before visiting hours. They said they wanted to come back later. Would you like to allow visitors?"

 

Gavin shouldn't have been surprised by that. He really shouldn't have. He knew Tina and Chris cared. And he knew Connor and Hank must have busted their asses to find him in time. But to actually be reminded of that was ... different.

 

"I ... yes," Gavin mumbled, blinking rapidly. "I'd like that."

 

"It's a little early for visitors still, but after my check up with you, I could make an exception for them," she said, smiling.

 

"Thank you."

 

He leaned back into his pillow, closing his eyes tightly for a moment. They were only burning because he was tired after all, right?


	25. Apology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... the last chapter of part 1.  
> This has been quite a ride. I must say, I enjoyed every second of it. Interacting with all of you has been so nice and encouraging. That's why I'm sad to say that I will be taking a break for now, before I upload part 2. For various reasons. I want to get ahead again, so I have a chapter to upload when my ... not so good phases hit.  
> More importantly, I need some time for myself, I really do. There has been so much going on in my life, it is disorienting. Once I feel like I've grounded myself a little, I'll be back. Could be a few days or a few weeks. I'll try to keep it at a month at most. Don't be sad if it doesn't work out that way, because I will 110 % be returning to finish this story.  
> That being said, go enjoy this mushy as fuck chapter! <3

Connor was ... nervous, walking up to Gavin's room. It was strange, but he felt out of his depth. He had never been to a hospital before to visit someone.

 

He didn't know how to behave. Should he have brought something? He had seen people carrying flowers, balloons and other presents. Maybe it was a custom to bring something. Then again, Hank hadn't suggested buying anything - though that might have been due to his dislike for Gavin.

 

Before he could drive himself into a frenzy with his doubts and second guessing himself, Hank opened the door in front of them and more or less shoved Connor inside, sighing.

 

Had he been human, he would have stumbled for sure, but being an android, his balancing system helped him catch himself in one big step, preserving most of his dignity. He was embarrassed nonetheless by his less than elegant entrance, looking up to find Gavin staring at him, mouth twitching like he wasn't sure if it was alright to laugh.

 

He didn't say anything, and neither did Connor.

 

Hank closed the door behind them, with a put on frown that couldn't hide the hint of warmth in his eyes.

 

"Hey there, Reed. Still breathing, I see, beating all the odds," he greeted, causing Gavin to grin in response.

 

"What else did you expect, old man?" Gavin asked defiantly. "I hear I'm pretty hard to kill."

 

Hank shook his head at that, suddenly grim.

 

"Don't gimme that bullshit, kid. Do you know how close you came? You'd be dead if not for -"

 

Connor put a hand on his arm, gaze downcast, to stop him before he could finish his sentence. He didn't know why, but he was ... afraid Gavin would be displeased to hear that he had been the one to save him. To his utter surprise, Gavin addressed Hank's point calmly, knowing exactly what he had meant to say.

 

"I know. I heard the doctors talking about it."

 

There was no trace of contempt in his voice, so Connor summoned the courage to glance up at him, meeting his eyes to find them unexpectedly ... warm. And then Gavin smiled. Just for a moment. It was enough to make Connor's system falter briefly.

 

"I'm not good at this mushy crap," Gavin said quietly, softly. "But thank you. For saving my life."

 

It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but he didn't, breaking eye contact with Connor instead to point at two chairs placed next to his bed.

 

"Come on, sit down. It's kind of awkward with you two standing around in front of the door."

 

Hank nodded, taking the seat a bit further from Gavin, leaving Connor to sit down closer to the top of the bed - close enough for him to reach out if he wanted and ... why was he thinking that?

 

"We didn't even ask how you're doing," Hank noted. "Everything okay?"

 

"Fantastic," Gavin said simply, dry as a bone.

 

Hank just scoffed. "And now the real answer, if you don't mind."

 

"I mean it," Gavin explained, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. "I'm stable, I don't need any strong meds to keep it that way. The bits of pain I experience are manageable. I just haven't seen a doctor today to ask them when I can leave. The sooner the better. I can't relax here, anyway."

 

He was quiet for a moment, before he added: "I hate hospitals."

 

"I can relate," Hank said, shooting Connor a sidelong glance, pensive and a bit uncertain. "Well, how about I go track down a doctor for you? Let's see about getting you out of here a bit sooner."

 

"I'll be eternally grateful for your efforts, old man," Gavin replied, relieved, yet with a bit of mockery hidden in his grin.

 

"Don't push it."

 

With that, Hank left, and Connor was suddenly alone with Gavin. He felt awkward again, his fingers twitching nervously.

 

"Are you sure you are ready to go home yet?" he asked, partly to make certain, partly to have anything to talk about, so the silence wouldn't stretch out between them, separating them. "After what happened ..."

 

"Hey," Gavin said gingerly, waiting to continue until Connor looked at him. His eyes were so different from before, Connor couldn't quite explain it, but it wasn't something he disliked. "I'm fine. Really, other than a few headaches and a bruised ribcage, I'm as healthy as possible in my situation. And don't you dare look guilty about the rib part. I'd be dead if you hadn't taken care of me back then."

 

Connor was a bit dumbfounded by how easily Gavin had noticed his feelings on the matter, but he was also glad. To be able to talk to him like this. Openly, he meant. With honesty.

 

"I know I already said thank you. Seriously, though, I mean it. I'm grateful for what you did."

 

He looked so gentle when he said this, ears bright red from embarrassment. Connor didn't know how to feel or what to do.

 

"It ... it's nothing. I didn't do anything extraordinary. I was simply programmed with first aid protocols."

 

Gavin frowned for a moment, a bit conflicted, but then a small smile crossed his face, barely noticeable, yet decidedly _warm._

 

"Yeah, sure, whatever. I'm alive because you knew what to do. And programmed or not, you found me and decided to help me, that's what matters."

 

Connor's eyes widened at that; he was confused and unsure of how to react.

 

"Of course I did," he finally said, lowering his gaze to stare at his hands. "I couldn't let you die. We're partners."

 

"Partners," Gavin repeated, contemplative. He took a deep, ever so slightly shaky breath, holding it in for a moment before releasing it slowly.

 

"You know, I never really apologized. For how I treated you."

 

His tone was so full of regret that it took Connor by surprise.

 

"Treated me? Do you mean before I deviated?"

 

A sigh.

 

"Yes, that too. But I also mean every fucking thing I did wrong since you joined the team. Every snide comment or whatever bullshit I did. And especially what I said when you came over to check on me. That was uncalled for. Cruel," he said, sounding bitter at the memory. "You didn't deserve that. Any of it."

 

"It's -"

 

"Don't you dare say it's fine," Gavin interrupted him before Connor could get another word out. "It's not. So for fuck's sake, let me just apologize. Properly."

 

Connor didn't know what to say, so he just nodded, his chest getting strangely tight.

 

Sitting up a bit, Gavin rubbed the crease between his eyes. He seemed lost. Like he didn't know how or where to start.

 

"I was an idiot," he said, his gaze finding Connor's, never looking away while he spoke. "I wanted to hate you because I couldn't get over myself. I blamed you for things you had nothing to do with. And I'm fucking sorry."

 

For a moment, Connor forgot how to breathe. All he could do was stare at Gavin, who seemed uncomfortable with his admission, but also unwilling to backtrack or stop.

 

"If you don't mind, I'd like to start fresh."

 

Connor cocked his head to the side questioningly, trying not to show how overwhelmed he was, how surprised and confused and immensely ... happy.

 

"I am not opposed to that, but why the sudden change?"

 

He noticed Gavin's face going a little pale at his question, his heart rate rising a bit. There was fear in his eyes.

 

"What happened to me put everything in perspective," he explained, absentmindedly touching his bandaged wrists. "I don't know how much you've pieced together. I haven't given a statement yet. It happened so fast, getting taken by that bastard, I mean. But I kept fighting when I woke up. I tried my damnedest to get out of there on my own. And it didn't change a goddamn thing."

 

Connor found himself nodding, leaning a bit closer to Gavin, observing the subtle changes in his expression, the lingering dread, the disappointment in himself for failing.

 

He wanted to ... he wanted to reassure Gavin, tell him he had nothing to be sorry for.

 

But wasn't he the one blaming Gavin for not asking him to accompany him? Not trusting him enough to get him involved?

He felt guilty now, seeing Gavin like this. Neither of them had anticipated this turn in events. It wasn't right to blame Gavin. He hadn't asked for this.

 

"I always thought I wasn't afraid of dying," Gavin continued, catching Connor off guard with his statement. "I wasn't keen on it, but I always thought I wouldn't leave much behind. And that might still be true."

 

There was a sensation in Connor's chest now, like his Thirium pump had stopped working, but worse. It was ... uncomfortable. More than that. He wondered if this was what pain felt like.

 

"However. When that ... woman had me on that table and told be she would put this shit into my veins, I was scared shitless. All I could think about were the regrets I had. Those didn't go away when I overdosed. I could feel myself dying. I could feel my heart standing still. And I just wanted to -"

 

He paused to look at Connor, eyes soft and lips almost smiling despite the terrifying things he had just said. His hand twitched in his lap, like he wanted to reach out but didn't dare to.

 

"I wanted to tell you I was wrong. That you are a person, even if you were created, not born."

 

Connor was stunned.

 

He felt like crying and laughing at the same time, letting out a strangled sound before giving into the urge to reach out and take Gavin's hand in his.

 

Part of him expected Gavin to pull away from the sudden touch.

He didn't. His hand was warm, much warmer than Connor's own, and his skin was slightly rough, covered in old scars and newer, healing cuts and bruises. Alive. Human. Comforting.

 

His pump regulator was making his blue blood circulate faster than usual and he didn't understand why. He found he didn't care. It was a sensation he thought he could grow to like, even if he didn't know the reasons.

 

They stayed like that for what seemed like forever, not moving, not speaking, until Connor cleared his throat quietly, breaking the silence.

 

He kept holding Gavin's hand however, fascinated by how it looked in his own, his fingertips tracing along Gavin's wrists, feeling the delicate skin and the rough edge of the bandages covering his wounds.

 

"I - Can I ask you a personal question?"

 

He heard Gavin laughing gently at his words.

 

"You would ask me anyway, even if I said no. So go ahead."

 

Connor ... couldn't deny that. He wasn't sure if he should laugh as well or be embarrassed, so he settled for a quick smile as a compromise. Then he paused a moment, turning serious again.

 

"You said you wanted to hate me before. Would you tell me why?"

 

He saw Gavin tense up, his hand gripping Connor's more tightly and then going limp. For a second, Connor thought he would pull back and refuse to answer, until he spoke up.

 

"It's complicated. It has to do with my ... my _family_. I have never talked about it. To anyone."

 

There were so many emotions in his voice. Pain, anger, hurt. Connor could see a shadow in his eyes as Gavin's breathing picked up again, stress level spiking, his hand getting sweaty and cold.

 

He wasn't ready.

 

"You don't have to tell me," Connor said, releasing Gavin's hand from his grasp, the loss of both the weight and the feeling of skin against skin somehow making him ache.

 

Gavin nodded, biting his lip.

 

"I want to. But I can't. Not right now."

 

"I'll wait. Whenever you're ready."

 

Connor did his best to smile at him, as reassuringly as he could.

 

And Gavin smiled back, eyes a bit brighter again.

 

 

\---

 

 

Gavin was very much aware of the displeased glare his doctor was giving him while he signed the papers he needed to sign so he could be released early.

 

He didn't care how little she liked this. It was his decision and if he had to stay even one more hour, he would go insane. So there was no way he would take a no for an answer.

 

He handed the tablet with his paperwork to her, smiling widely.

 

"I hope we're settled, then. Because I can't wait to get outta here."

 

She sighed, shaking her head at him.

 

"I really must stress again that I highly advise you to stay at least one more night, better yet a week, just to make sure there are no lasting side effects from the drug you were infused with or your cardiopulmonary arrest."

 

Gavin shrugged. "I promise to come back if I feel off in any way."

 

"You might be most vulnerable to complications while you are asleep. There's no guarantee you'll notice anything," she explained, looking both worried and a bit angry at him for not listening. "The chance of that is low, I'll admit that. But I don't feel comfortable leaving you to your own devices. Do you have someone to check on you at least periodically at night?"

 

Gavin did not, and he was about to say as much, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Connor exchanging a glance with Hank, one that ended with Hank frowning and nodding as if agreeing to something reluctantly.

 

"I can check on him," Connor said, tightening his grip on Gavin's shoulder to keep him from speaking up; not that Gavin would have been able to say anything anyway, with his jaw hitting the fucking floor. "I have specialized medical scanners, so I can tell as soon as something goes wrong."

 

What the fuck was going on now? First he was spilling his heart out in front of the guy, then he ended up holding hands with him and now Connor was offering to keep an eye on him? Which would inevitably mean that Connor would watch him sleep.

 

Gavin felt a sudden surge of panic, a remnant of his fear of being analyzed, sure, but there was something else there, too, making the blood rush to his cheeks. His ears were already burning, probably bright red now. Shit.

 

He didn't protest when Connor led him out of the room as soon as the doctor gave her hesitant blessing after all. All he could do was remain in a state of stunned silence all the way down the hall, down the elevator, out of the building and across the parking lot.

 

He was vaguely aware of the pain in his chest and the weakness in his legs, causing him to slightly lean on Connor for support.

 

"Gavin?" Connor asked as soon as they reached the car, his voice so close to Gavin's ear that it sent a shiver down his spine.

 

"Yes? What is it?"

 

He looked down when Gavin turned to face him, avoiding Gavin's questioning gaze.

 

"I hope you're not mad at me for what I said in there. You don't have to let me stay over. I just thought you needed a hand in convincing your doctor."

 

Connor paused, fingers twitching nervously.

 

"Even though staying with you would ... put my mind at ease. Being out of the hospital too early is a severe health risk."

 

Damn. He looked like a kicked puppy. How could Gavin say no to that?

 

"It's fine," he muttered, almost stumbling over the simple words, surprised by how easy it was to cave in. "You can stay."

 

Hank chose that moment to join them, exchanging another look with Connor, calmer this time. He even graced Gavin with what could pass as the attempt of a genuine smile.

 

"Get in, I'll take you home, Reed."

 

 

\---

 

 

The drive should have been longer than it felt, but Gavin was lost in a swirl of shapeless thoughts and emotions, only partially aware of his surroundings. He cut any attempt at smalltalk short. Both Hank and Connor left him alone with his reflections after a while, picking up on how preoccupied he was.

 

For some reason, the weird mood didn't even let up when they arrived. The whole situation felt unreal to him, but not unpleasant.

 

Connor immediately jumped out of the car to help Gavin get out. And yeah, he actually needed some help, with how painful it was to move with his many cuts and bruises and injured ribs.

He took Connor's hand without thinking twice, yet he was somehow hyper aware of their skin touching, just as much as he had been at the hospital. What was that all about?

 

"I'll get going then. Don't do anything stupid, both of you," Hank said, actually waving at them like an overprotective dad dropping his kids of at a sleepover. It was almost enough to make Gavin laugh. "Call me if anything happens."

 

"I will," Connor said, waving back and smiling sincerely at Hank.

 

Yep. Father and son it was. Weird ~~and adorable~~.

 

They watched Hank drive off before going inside, taking the stairs one step at a time and a little more slowly than Gavin would have liked to admit. Shit, if this was a taste of what being old was like, he'd take an early death after all.

 

As they reached Gavin's floor, Connor stopped dead in his tracks, LED going from blue to yellow. There was a strange look on his face. Was that shame?

 

"What's up? Did you decide you're not so keen on staying with me? Or did you leave the stove on at home?"

 

Connor shook his head sheepishly, clearing his throat. He seemed to do that a lot when he was nervous, a reflex more than a necessity. Now there was guilt on his face as well, clear as day.

 

"Alright, what did you do?"

 

"I might have ... put a low priority on replacing your door," Connor said, slowly and carefully.

 

Gavin stared at him, mouth open. What?

 

"Replacing my door? Connor, what the actual fuck did you do?"

 

Connor looked down, shuffling his feet awkwardly. His voice was low as he spoke up again.

 

"When you went missing, I thought you might be at home ... In need of assistance. Or worse. So I gained entrance."

 

"In other words, you panicked and broke my door," Gavin summarized, caught somewhere between disbelief and the urge to burst out laughing. "And then you forgot to do anything about that."

 

"I didn't forget it!" Connor protested. "I simply put the priority too low."

 

"Same difference."

 

Gavin shook his head, a bit ticked off, but oddly touched at the same time.

 

"Can't say anyone has ever broken down a door for me before," he stated, aware of the Connor's look of surprise. "Let's get inside first and then see about ordering a replacement door."

 

The smile Connor gave him was so wide and fucking _radiant,_ Gavin would have let him break down any door in his fucking apartment to see it again.

 

Wait, what? What was he thinking?

 

He shook his head yet again, walking up the last two steps and turning the corner to his apartment. And jeez, if he could see the damage from this far away without glasses or contacts, Connor really must have done a number on his door. Fucking hell. It was kind of impressive.

 

Connor shot him a sidelong glance as they came to a stop in front of Gavin's apartment and pushed the broken door open to let them inside. He froze a split second later, actually stepping in front of Gavin as if to shield him.

 

"Hey, what's wrong?"

 

Instead of answering, Connor simply motioned for Gavin to be quiet, drawing his gun. And now Gavin could hear it, too. The sound of music playing from inside his apartment. Something classical and oddly ambient. Gavin felt his knees buckle. He knew that type music - and he hated it with every fiber of his being.

 

He didn't want to be here.

 

He wanted to be anywhere else but here.

 

Still he found himself pushing past Connor, brushing off his hand as he tried to hold him back. He opened the door to his living room with one swift motion, coming face to face with his living nightmare, blue eyes staring back at him with cold understanding and a hint of amusement.

 

Elijah.

 

"Hello, brother dearest."


End file.
